


Transformers: Decepticons in disguise.

by Cyberfrost



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Autobots feeling guilty and trying to help, Cultural Interspecies Misconceptions, Decepticons as humans, F/M, It's all Wheeljack's fault, Learning to be human with Google, M/M, Mashing G1 and TFP favourites together, Old prompt is old, Screen-faced drones in wheels are canon in G1, Shockwave being Shockwave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 20,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfrost/pseuds/Cyberfrost
Summary: This self-indulgent piece is a result of a few overused themes matched together, mild writer's block, and my will of taking a slight break from my other work.Feedback is always appreciated.Oh, and it's all Wheeljack's fault.





	1. It's all Wheeljack's fault!

**Author's Note:**

> “Everyone! Duke!!!!”
> 
>  
> 
> Following Wheeljack’s desperate cry, the blast, the shockwave, then dust and debris enveloped the fighting decepticons as the autobots wisely fled.

 

Slowly clenching his hand in a fist, Megatron groaned, standing up and pacing amidst the fog.

  


“Starscream! You failed me yet again!!!”

  


Crouching in place in his current hiding spot, unable to see a thing before his face, Starscream stalled, staying very still: he had awoken a few minutes ago and was doing his best to avoid his leader.

  


Slowly the decepticons blinded by the fog, surrounding the radius around the explosion, followed the muffled sound of Megatron’s voice: excited, Laserbeak flew ahead and cawed, landing right atop her leader’s shoulder.

  


Megatron’s surprised scream of pain made every advancing decepticon stall: immediately throwing the landing  _bird_ on the ground, he held his shoulder, feeling for the leaking fluid, growling.

  


“Isn’t it enough that we fell in the autobot trap?? Soundwave! Call Laserbeak back!”

  


Uncomfortable silence: nearly silent steps came through, followed by a guttural big cat’s growl coming to his knee’s height.

  


“Ravage. Locate Soundwave. Now.”

  


Growling once more, the cat purred and rubbed his face in Megatron’s leg, who jumped backwards, startled, going very silent and  _thinking_ , finally stretching his arm to the symbiont, sliding his fingers from head to tail, registering the surprisingly  _soft_ fur.

  


_Fur?_

  


Recoiling his arm as if burned, he passed an idle hand in his head, stopping deadly mute tracing his face.

  


“Decepticons. We appear to have a major problem.”

  


_No joking_ , thought Starscream, still crouched, as he heard Buzzsaw screeching from up close.

  


Turning to the sound, Megatron made his way slowly through the fog as it progressively dissipated and his sight devised the widestretched shadow of two pair of wings and a dark, glossy feline, protectively crouching over…

  


“Soundwave.”

  


He finished walking there, his sight going clear and confirming his suspicions, commanding with his hands for the symbionts to give room as he crouched down besides the passed out form with small fragments of the debris of Wheeljack’s bomb pierced in face, and one single large piece going through the midsection.

  


Shaking his head at the sudden  _screech_ come from the middle of the fog, Megatron smirked, satisfied: having Starscream go through  _this_ with them would certainly make his day slightly less miserable.

  


Reuniting his strength, inhaling deeply, and taking the prone form in arms, he lifted the damaged Soundwave off the ground right into his arms, standing up slowly, very aware they would need the autobot’s help, and shouted.

  


* * *

 

  


Standing behind the radius of the explosion, the autobots, unaffected, having duked in time, turned their optics to Optimus as Megatron screamed in their video feed from the dissipating fog, coagulated blood trailing down his right shoulder.

  


“ _Optimus Prime! Whatever you had planned to inflict upon us, you succeeded. We are utterly defenceless and Soundwave needs the adequate medical help!!”_

  


Squinting, Ratchet shook his head.

  


“That’s beyond my abilities and you know it, Prime.”

  


Optimus shook his head, sighing.

  


“I know. But we can still transport them to the closest allied military facility. It’s the least we can start doing to help. Afterall, we did put them in that mess, right, Wheeljack?”

  


Wheeljack meekly glared down, scratching his battlemask and waving a hand to the screen.

  


“That is, after we get them a couple of _clothes.”_


	2. Help!

Standing above his Tower in gun mode and watching over the planet, Shockwave, immovable, a force to be reckoned with, detachedly received the incoming call on Lord Megatron’s emergency channel, from Earth.

 

Root-moding and lowering his platform down, he stepped out of it and with all the grace of a tank, strolled through the labs towards his comm station, sitting rigidly before it, preparing himself to see what the decepticon leader wanted of him.

 

As the faceplates of Optimus Prime came into view, the cyclops, not a stir in his EM-field or even a hint of surprise, minutely bowed his head in a nod, yellow optic glowing as he spoke.

 

“Autobot Leader Optimus Prime. For you to have had access to this particular comm line, I presume Decepticon Leader Lord Megatron was captured.”

 

Optimus, from across the screen, millions of light years away from their home planet, couldn’t help the flinch at the cold tone, as the cyclops still spoke.

 

“Considering the Decepticon hierarchic chain, for you to have contacted me, Autobot Leader Optimus Prime, Air Commander Starscream and Chief Communications Officer Soundwave must be out of action as well. Know that I will not surrender Cybertron, much less exchange my rule for their continued existence. It would not be logical.”

 

Optimus attempted to speak, getting interrupted by the droning Shockwave.

 

“The War for Cybertron continues. Shockwave out.”

 

Shockwave then moved his right hand to the console, shutting it down.

 

* * *

 

 

Facepalming, Optimus groaned, as Prowl, arms folded besides him, just glowered at the screen, unfolding them and repeating the call.

 

* * *

 

  
On his personal comm, Shockwave sat back and answered again, this time meeting the faceplates of Prowl.

 

“Subcommander Officer Prowl. I believe I made my point clear and the decepticons will continue fighting.”

 

The autobot SIC squinted, approaching the screen.

 

“ _I strongly advise you to listen to what the Prime has to say.”_

 

Shockwave, still, droned, unaffected.

 

“Unless it is about your therms of rendition to the logically superior decepticon forces, it does not hold interest to me.”

 

Prowl minutely twitched his right optic ridge, the instant Jazz shoved him aside and blew a kiss to the screen.

 

“ _Heya, Shockers. Good to see ya. Lookin’ purple. Ya have a good optic on ya.”_

 

Unaffected by the autobot TIC, Shockwave led his hand to the panel, intent in shutting the comm off permanently, suddenly stopping millimetres from the keyboard as Prowl sent Jazz away from sight and his single optic met the faceplates of Wheeljack, meekly coming to sight and fidgeting with his hands.

 

“ _...I did a thing and the thing blew up and now the decepticons are turned human.”_

 

Recalling his hand back, Shockwave kept his glare at the screen, as this time Optimus Prime came back into view right besides his SIC.

 

“ _Since it’s the Autobot’s fault that Megatron and the others are turned human, we are offering them help and shelter until Wheeljack can revert the effects.”_

 

“If they can be reverted.” whispered Wheeljack as Optimus _glowered_.

 

After reflecting for three full seconds, optic staring at the Prime, his SIC and the engineer, Shockwave droned.

 

“Autobot Leader Optimus Prime: you are telling me that with your illogical actions, your Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack brought forth unto the Decepticon High Command on Earth, via obscure scientific means, a bodily change that has high chance of being permanent.”

 

Nodding, Prowl cleared his vocalisers, turning to the screen.

 

_“Precisely. Now. Shockwave: here’s the deal. We propose a truce for scientific cooperation between you, as Chief Science Officer, and our Science Team to find a way of reversing the human-formed decepticons back into normal. You will have ready access to our labs, facilities and resources during your stay with us.”_

 

Shockwave, tilting his head to the right, spoke.

 

“Turning the Earth-stationed decepticons into weakened flesh versions of themselves is beneficial to your side of the War, in that you have effectively neutralised the opposition, however, out of misplaced sense of guilt, you are willing to revert said beneficial effects.”

 

Optimus sighed, but nodded.

 

“Yet, you wish my _cooperation_ into reversing the effects, against all logic, when instead your Chief Engineering Officer should get _rewarded_ for excellent service in taking the decepticon forces on Earth out of action.”

 

Wheeljack blinked in surprise, as Optimus shook his hands and his head towards the screen.

 

_“No, this is not how we autobots do things. Wheeljack knows what he did is wrong and he’s very sorry, right, Wheeljack??”_

 

Optimus turned to the engineer, squinting sternly, as Wheeljack finally sagged. Shockwave, processing the received data, nodded.

 

“Until I have hard, convincing evidence that the decepticons, especially Lord Megatron, were turned human, I will not leave my station as Guardian of Cybertron.”

 

Prowl, nodding, with a definite smirk, expressionless otherwise, shifted the camera view towards a greyed out, clearly _annoyed_ man wearing military greens.

 

“Presuming you are the Decepticon Leader, Lord Megatron, I request you provide me your personal emergency override code.”

 

Megatron, beyond angry, punched the panels, then growled and started typing a gigantic code from _heart_ on the touchpad, as the cyclops received on his comm the sequence, finally bowing his head in a respectful nod, with no hint of emotion, droning.

 

“Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons. How may I serve you and your greatness?”

 

Megatron, huffing, worried with Soundwave, who was undergoing _surgery_ as he spoke to that dreaded _drone_ , planted both hands on the console and approached the screen.

 

_“Just haul your aft from your experiments for once and bridge yourself to Earth, **now!!!”**_


	3. All my decepticons

Cold, fluorescent lights shone from the ceiling-mounted surgical light, the light-green dressed first surgeon speaking to the second surgeon.

 

“According to the ultrasound there seems to be no arterial and intestinal damage, the shard going through the _omentum_ without reaching any vital organ. This should be a protocol laparotomy.”

 

The second surgeon sighed, glaring at the main fragment.

 

“I still don’t agree with them being kept in the base. As far as I understood these people are dangerous. Did you get to see the _exotic pets_? I mean, I can understand the panther, but… who keeps _vultures_?”

 

The first surgeon, having just opened from sternum to pubic bone in a single line their patient’s injured abdomen, the metal shard’s entry site at the right of the navel, ignored him and ordered.

 

“Focus. The patient is bleeding on the incision. Cauterise.”

 

Making quick work of the blood with the electric bistoury, the second surgeon followed with his eyes behind the security glasses as his _hierarchical superior_ cut with the regular scalpel the lawyers of fatty tissue, reaching the aponeurosis of the external oblique muscle and cutting through it.

 

“It is not our place to judge what our superiors do."

 

 

He then inched towards the linea alba and quickly opened the connective tissue between both of the rectus abdominis underneath, as the second surgeon kept speaking, waiting with the electric bistoury in hands.

 

 

"I've heard that the giant _robot_ Optimus Prime intervened against the pets being taken away, and _insisted_ they are part of the _family_ , whatever it means, and should be kept with all those caged men. ”

 

 

The first surgeon stopped what he was doing, looking directly at the second.

 

 

"It is not our place to _gossip_."

 

  
And went back to the incision, as staring at the entry site of the shard, imagining its irregular cut and the end result later, the second surgeon shook his head.

 

“I still think they should have called a _plastic_ surgeon as well.”

 

Visually inspecting the viscera around the metallic shard, taking most of the mesenteric omentum he could out of sight, the first surgeon made sure to expose the small bleeding veins for his surgical aide to clamp, making sure the ultrasound was correct and no piece of small intestine would be needed to get removed, tracing his hands alongside the foreign body whose tip currently was firmly lodged into the left ilium.

 

“Will I have to call your replacement or are you going to _focus_?”

 

The second surgeon sagged, as the first surgeon mechanically finished fishing for bleeding.

 

“No deeper damage confirmed. Removing shard from periosteum. Proceeding to inventory of viscera afterwards.”

 

The second surgeon observed attentive as the first detachedly pulled the metal from the iliac bone, nodding as no sudden, unexpected bleeding started and the metallic piece was placed aside, quickly taken by a nurse and labelled to be taken for analysis.

 

“I mean, it’s a shame. Plastic surgery is _life_. I wouldn’t want to sport any unsightly scars, specially on my face.”

 

Viscera in gloved hands, manually and visually inspecting each centimetre of the intestines for further previously unseen damage, the first surgeon never glanced to his subordinate, droning.

 

“Once we’re done here, and the patient is stable, _Doctor Pitanguy_ , you will have all the time of the world to recall on how to do intradermal sutures and make sure no bad scarring remains.”

 

Once more going through the solid viscera and making sure no lesions on the spleen, liver or pancreas could be found, going so far as the kidneys and the bladder, making sure no fluids accumulated into the pelvic floor, and every single organ was whole and sound, the first surgeon nodded to the second.

 

“My work is done and the patient will live. Finish closing the whole mess. Have fun.”

 

Taking the gloves out and sling-shooting them into the contaminated waste bin, he left the surgical circus, as the second surgeon just plain _sighed,_ taking the catgut-chromed suture lines and beginning to close the many abdominal layers back in place.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Just out of the communication’s room, Megatron made his best to look and feel like as tall and migthy as the autobots surrounding him, staring almost eye to optic at Optimus Prime from the raised platform he was walking at.

 

“Now I made sure _Shockwave_ will come to help your incompetent _inventor, Prime_ , what else do you require of me before I go back to my _cell_?”

 

Megatron spat, the Prime minutely flinching.

 

“You must understand the humans, Megatron. They don’t know who you really are and have not located you on the citizen files, they are playing safe. Not to mention the _exotic pets_.”

 

“They are _cowards_. As if I could make any kind of permanent damage in this _frame_.” he then smirked “Isn’t it ironic that _my Ravage_ is the most respect-inspiring of us _now_ , Prime?”

 

Shutting up as the Prime rose a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, Megatron walked to climb down the stairs.

 

“I always thought Ravage was Soundwave’s.”

 

Stalling for a second then continuing on his way down, Megatron spoke.

 

“All _my_ decepticons are mine, Prime. This conversation is over.”

 

Growling low as he was escorted by two heavily armoured and armed human soldiers out of the room, Megatron left as Optimus sighed, shaking his head.


	4. Deliver us

Megatron glowered at the door of the room he and his decepticons were currently assigned: the place was filled with bunk beds, a few sofas, armoires and the minimal necessities a bunch of men and now three exquisite _pets_ might physically need.

  


Having been ordered in and locked up immediately after, swallowing his pride, he clasped both hands behind his back and stared at his expectant troops, equally dressed in military green, the instant Starscream stood up, folding arms.

  


“So. Is that dreaded _drone_ coming or not?”

  


“Do not attempt to tell me how I manage my troops, Starscream.” Megatron spat “Of course Shockwave’s coming. As if he would let the chance to _experiment_ pass.”

  


Starscream huffed, smirking.

  


“Whatever you say, _Mighty Megatron_. Any news on your _other_ drone??”

  


Immediately punching Starscream in the face, Megatron hissed, shaking his right hand and holding it against his abdomen, grimacing at his second in command and watching the seeker screech in pain and clutch against his nose, blood flowing from it freely.

  


“Primus!!! My nose!! Fraggit it hurts!!”

  


As Thundercracker widened his blue eyes and Skywarp pulled Starscream to sit on one of the lower bunk beds, hugging his shoulders, Megatron, regaining composure, _glowered_ his other decepticons into silence and pushed Astrotrain out of the sofa, sitting regally on it and watching Starscream panic at the sight of blood in his hands and uniform.

  


“Why so upset, Starscream.” he stared at his already swollen hand, ignoring the pulsating pain “This is just a _flesh_ wound.”

  


As Hook snickered, glad he knew nothing on how to fix a human and would not be volunteered to _help_ , the seeker threw a major tantrum and Thundercracker rushed to the locked door, punching it and demanding a medic.

  


Megatron, not denying he was amused, gave two pats at his side on the sofa, the empty spot instantly filled by Ravage: staring at the loyal symbiont, now lazily yawning and resting his head on his leader’s lap, a pair of inquisitive yellow eyes looking up, the tyrant groaned.

  


Cursing these fleshed out human forms for not having something as basic as a private comm, he shook his head, scratching Ravage behind his ears, earning himself a resigned purr, as two pairs of wings and eyes were barely visible from atop the fluorescent lights hanging by chains from the ceiling.

  


He wanted to tell them that _carrier_ was well, otherwise they would have had news already, but he couldn’t, not with the decepticons glaring at him and measuring him up, certainly trying to assert he was still fit to rule.

  


Megatron had a reputation to keep, not to mention his hand _hurts_ from the punch and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in power by merely being stupidly strong and violent as usual.

  


Which was one more reason why he needed Soundwave alive and kicking: the tapedeck had always been the glue keeping the decepticons together, the one who knew secrets enough to blackmail every single mech into subservience for ages to come.

  


Jolting out of his thoughts by the locked room’s door getting opened, he fleeted a glance to his _air commander_ getting escorted out of there by the two armed soldiers, coagulated blood having filled the front of his greenish shirt, a worried Skywarp getting prevented of going after him by Thundercracker, who pulled him close and back into the bunk bed.

  


Shaking his head, Megatron supposed being arrested in this fleshling base was not the worse that could have happened to them: were their roles reversed, he would have just stepped on and crushed each single autobot-turned-human under his pedes, ending the War for Cybertron right then and there, much like Shockwave had soundly suggested, and for once he was glad Shockwave was _not_ an autobot anymore.

  


If only he had news on how his communications officer was, he might be able to reassure the three cassettes, who wanted to know where Rumble and Frenzy were as well.

  


* * *

  


Waiting at the communication’s room, Optimus dismissed his command chain and his guardian, only Ratchet currently remaining, having just been informed on Soundwave’s current stable state, aware that the Chief Medical Officer  Doctor Eisenhower  requested to meet them.

  


As such, climbing over the  elevated platform and getting right to Optimus Prime’s and Ratchet’s face level,  the doctor caught a print report  from his wallet in hands and looked up to meet the two giant faces.

  


“Optimus Prime. Since you brought these men and took responsibility even on their _pets_ , I suspect these people are slightly _more than meets the eye_ , so, instead of reporting to my military commander, I thought about bringing the surgical report to you _first_.”

  


They exchanged a  curious  glance, as Ratchet nodded and Optimus spoke.

  


“Continue.”

  


The human medic cleared his throat.

  


“As you already must know, the surgery was successful and that human codenamed _Soundwave_ will live.”

  


The  autobots nodded as the  medic turned a few pages in his report.

  


“We strongly advise bedrest, and a series of future scheduled appointments. I don’t know who was the _responsible_ for this, but it was very irresponsible of whoever started this _mess_ to send a _pregnant_ woman to the field.”

 


	5. Wide Awake

Awaking in a jolt at the Surgical Ward, eyes frantically scanning the room as alarms beeped loudly, Soundwave tried screaming.

 

_Vocoder: disabled. Status: in pain._

 

“Keep calm. Stay put. You have been under surgery. There was a tube down your trachea from the anaesthesia and it will hurt a little to breath or speak. Follow me up.”

 

The post-operative care nurse raised a hand, moving it right and left, Soundwave following the motion with burning golden eyes, a sudden _urge_ to lunge against that stupid human and make him swallow a _datacable_ down his fuel intake for him to see if he would keep calm!

 

“Good. Does it hurt too much? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

 

Soundwave, trying to growl and only getting a meek rasp to come out, stopped trying and obeyed, blinking once. The nurse nodded, taking a syringe from the metallic tray and accessing the IV on Soundwave’s arm, injecting it.

 

Nausea hitting fully, a stinky smell reaching all sensors and vision immediately going foggy, Soundwave almost instantly collapsed into recharge.

 

* * *

 

Eyes opening wide, having lost track of time, Soundwave tried standing, to no effect.

 

_Chronometer: off. Hydraulics: defective. Sensory net: hypersensitive. Weapons systems: disabled. Docks and connections: muted. Telepathy: absent ._

 

Slowly lifting a sluggish hand, and immediately stalling at the sight of what was clearly _not_ a traditional cybertronian servo, Soundwave turned the hand slowly, making sure it really _belonged there_ , then slowly rested it back against the berth.

 

_Soundwave: with holomatter disguise._

 

Trying to stand up proved impossible: looking down, Soundwave discovered both legs were trapped into a kind of pumping machine.

 

Attempting to sit, Soundwave soon desisted: whatever faulty hydraulics there were in this disguise, they must be damaged because activating them to raise his own torso was just _too_ _much_.

 

_Soundwave: exhausted._

 

Reviewing whatever faulty memories were left, Soundwave recalled the explosion and the world going _woomp_ , the automatic emergency tapedeck locks turning ON and trapping Rumble and Frenzy inside, and…

 

Hurting from _within_ , a hand clutching involuntarily against the bottom of the communication’s officer hips, angling to the midsection, finding something soft where only solid plating should be, Soundwave did everything possible to glare down, the effort igniting a new wave of pain.

 

Hissing in a voice that didn’t _belong_ as the deep set, burning _hurt_ continued, Soundwave trashed against the two _pumps_ on both legs, kicking them up and down in attempt to get free.

 

Whatever had happened, Soundwave needed to escape!

 

Soundwave never got far though, for as soon as one of the devices was literally kicked away, the echo of rubber and metal clanging in the place, three _humans_ in white coats surrounded him, once more the hazardous smell and the unconsciousness filling the decepticon’s mind.

 

* * *

 

 

The third awakening was less surprising and less sudden, coming slowly, the neutral beep of machinery whirring on the background of the now darkened room.

 

Opening both eyes slowly now, Soundwave still felt the burning pain, just smaller and less unbearable.

 

_Self-repairs: ineffective._

 

Looking down and confirming that the _M_ _aster of the_ _S_ _py-net_ was not tied to the berth, Soundwave did everything in power not to call their attention anymore: as far as understood, no matter the reason for being trapped in a _human_ , until discovery on how to turn off what was supposed to be a disguise, the best bet for now was playing safe.

 

Besides, Soundwave didn’t want any humans coming and drugging the master-spy into recharge anymore.

 

Effectively sitting and inspecting the two rubber and metal pumps on both legs, concluding they had to be some kind of stasis cuffs, aware that their removal might call the  _wardens’_ attention _,_ Soundwave slowly swung them to the left side of of the berth, bracing against the guard rail and standing up, taking time to adjust.

 

As far as understood, he was in a kind of fake human shell, and from the knowledge on humans, apparently someone saw fit bestowing the communications officer a _female_ avatar, _snorting: the irony_.

 

Before able to complete three steps though, Soundwave was greeted by a sombre nurse bringing a tray of medication.

 

“Back to bed. You’re not supposed to walk around in these.”

 

Deposing the tray on a table, the nurse came to Soundwave, grabbing the arm not displaying an _IV_ , and steered the stubborn patient back into sitting, then laying down, adjusting the pumps.

 

“I don’t even know how you managed to walk. These things are heavy. Do you need to relieve yourself?”

 

Soundwave blinked, not understanding, darting the golden eyes into the nurse and squinting.

 

“I see. Sore throat. One blink for yes, two for no. Need to go to the restroom?”

 

Soundwave _glared,_ then blinked three times: one for yes, two for no, three for w _hat_ _the_ _slag_. The nurse sighed, gloving her hands and taking a flat open urinal.

 

“Lift your behind.”

 

Soundwave stared puzzled as the nurse literally grabbed the underside of _both_ thigh s with one hand and pushed it up, shoving said _urinal_ underneath the spy-master’s aft.

 

“Now. Whenever you feel like. Do it.”

 

Soundwave just glowered: after a full minute of the nurse pretending not to stare at him, she turned.

 

“No?”

 

Soundwave, puzzled, raised both hands: that was the moment she raised a hand to the patient’s lower abdomen, under the slight _volume_ , placing it firmly there.

 

“Sometimes after getting fitted with a urinary catheter, people have a hard time urinating again. I’ll help increase the pressure.”

 

Without access to databanks outside this own _pretender_ _shell_ , Soundwave followed the nurse’s gloved hand palming the _soft_ squishy abdomen with learned expertise and pushing down.

 

Immediately stalling as a feeling of _pressure_ intensified, in a sudden Soundwave went still, a full body shiver (followed by _warmth_ crawling up and down the back of both legs) coming, as the sound of water filling the metal urinal from _underneath_ reached his audials.

 

_Soundwave: leaking._

 

Soundwave wasn’t supposed to eliminate any fluids in a holomatter disguise or under use of a pretender shell: being familiar with the concept of emptying waste tanks and _urinating_ , though, done by organic beasts and humans, and…

 

_Wheeljack: at fault._

 

Wheeljack was the creator of the bomb that went _kaboom_ in the battlefield, right before Soundwave was hit by its shards and blacked out.

 

Wheeljack’s stuff always blow up and have hazardous effects.

 

Wheeljack’s bomb blew up and now Soundwave was turned a _human_ , Rumble and frenzy being currently trapped inside, and…

 

_Wheeljack: going to **pay.** _

 

Soundwave had barely no time to properly plot revenge, however, being jolted out of the impish thoughts, as the nurse unceremoniously looked at the now full urinal, nodded, then _wiped_ in between _both_ legs with a sanitary napkin, pulling the urinal from underneath, adjusted the covers back and left to the room’s restroom.

 

Sharpening both audials, Soundwave, hands now grabbing at the edges of the covers, listening to the sound of the toilet flush, analysing the recent events, _sagg_ _ed_ _._

 

“The Doctor will come by later to clear you out if everything is fine with the surgery. Be a good _girl_.”

 

Meekly nodding at being _reminded_ , Soundwave pushed the covers up until the neck, observing the room’s door close.

 

The current _organic_ nature of this _alt-mode_ prevented the decepticon of getting proper revenge against the autobot, so this part of the plan would be put on hold.

 

Right now, what Soundwave really needed was to find how to reach the trapped twins, and how to get to Lord Megatron: if as suspected, all the decepticons on the blast radius were granted the same kind of bodily change (and thus the other three _symbionts_ were modified accordingly as well), they certainly were getting _human_ aid through the benevolent hands of Optimus Prime and his autobots, and...

 

...and now everybody just _knows_.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Dr Eisenhower left the two autobots in their meeting room, the only place where humans could safely interact with the cybertronians without fear of being stepped on, with his recommendation and his endless rantings, he breathed, relieved for getting out of their oppressive nature.

 

 _These are supposed to be the nice ones_ , he reminded himself.

 

If he was already overwhelmed by them, imagine if they had to interact with their enemies, the Decepticons!

 

Snorting at the absurdity of the notion, he shook his head: once the first 24h after surgery were done, he had a codenamed _Soundwave_ woman to instruct on where and how to get proper pre-natal care and a few _prohibitions_ to give.

 

Afterall, a pregnant woman wasn’t supposed to engage physically in the field.

 

Hell, women weren’t supposed to even be military, except maybe when working behind a desk with paperwork, taking account of stock, mailing reports, managing resources, just generally managing communications, hard lines and computer nets!

 

Shaking his head, he turned on the corridor: Agent Fowler has requested the details on everything relating **Codename Soundwave** , and the doctor was going for his immediate superior Officer to report.


	6. I've been summoned with a purpose

Wheeljack, sitting on what would become his new, temporary lab in the Autobot Allied Facility, at Warehouse E, sighed, missing his old Lab at the Ark, mentally reviewing what went wrong with his latest _craft._

 

Sure, it exploded, but that was expected: his stuff always invariably ended up exploding, except for the one time he really had wanted it to actually explode, and...

 

And now _Shockwave_ would be coming by to _help._

 

Which brings him to his current predicament, a very empty, unlived, immaculate, never exploded lab.

 

Not that he had anything irreplaceable: hell, not even his parts were - he recalled  substituting limbs more often than Prowl ever sent Jazz into the brig.

 

He had  _memories_ in the old Lab at the Ark: each dent in the wall, each spot of dark smudged fog up the ceiling, every blast-radius radioactive impression set in the metals and the rocks marking the ground...

 

...everything left behind just because  _Shockwave_ was coming and Primus Forbid the Cyclops of entering the Ark!

 

As if the decepticons didn't already know where the Ark was, more or less like every autobot also knew where the site of the decepticon spacebridge on Earth was.

 

Shaking his head, he recalled the physical placement of the decepticon spacebridge on Earth, an _inconspicuous_ site whose location both factions knew with precision, only lacking a road sign with directions, and Wheeljack for a second snorted: as a static alt-moded gunformer, Shockwave would have to either fly himself in root mode or get brought in by no one less than the Prime himself with his subspaced trailer, and as soon as he came by…

 

A green swirling portal, conjured up out of thin air, showed up in the middle of his lab, the immovable faceplates of Shockwave stepping out.

 

“Primus Almighty!!!”

 

The purple towering Cyclops, followed by a screen-faced legless drone on wheels, instantly dipped his head down.

 

“The correct designation is Shockwave.”

 

Wheeljack turned his head and followed the drone with his optics as it came in carrying a truckload of boxed _supplies._

 

“What’s _that_?”

 

Shockwave, slowly glancing at his drone, droned.

 

“That is my drone bringing boxed supplies. I expect you do not mind.”

 

Wheeljack, wide-opticed, watched the screen-faced drone get in, then out of the hole, unceremoniously piling a couple of _boxes_ on a corner, finally shook his head in denial, deciding he didn’t want to _kno_ w.

 

“No! What’re you doing here??”

 

Shockwave glared expressionless at Wheeljack until the autobot twitched, then droned.

 

“I have been specifically invited to give much needed scientific aid with the predicament of the decepticons as humans. Your superior Officer, Subcommander Prowl, sent me the coordinates to this allied facility.”

 

Wheeljack, peeking at the growing pile of _boxes_ on the corner, raised a hand to scratch behind his neck as Shockwave, reactionless, stood rigidly in the middle of his lab, glaring back until the autobot finally, vigorously shook his head.

 

“NO! I mean. Primus. You’re _difficult_. The green swirling _thing_! This is… I can’t even name what it is. You have to teach me! How did you make this _portal_!!!”

 

Shockwave slowly turned to contemplate his _portal_ , dipped his head in a nod, then unsubspaced a huge _remote control_.

 

“The solitude on Cybertron allowed me to make tremendous advances: I upgraded the spacebridge three million years ago. The prospect of free-flowing energon cubes made me cease being overzealous with saving my own meagre energon reserves, which allowed me to use the energy-suckling _mobile_ _spacebridge_ instead of the usual, low-energy-required fixed spacebridge site.”

 

Wheeljack, gleefully twisting his hands, not knowing what to do with them, erratic thoughts filling his upper processors as his spark _singed_ before the prospect of doing potentially dangerous _things_ , finally fidgeted with his fingers: it was a shame the autobots lost Shockwave to Shadowplay. So much knowledge to exploit.

 

“So you really came to help m… us revert the… thing. That I did.”

 

Shockwave did not spare a nod, walking around the lab and thoroughly scrutinising every surface.

 

“To provide any insight, however, I will require that you hand me the prototypes and blueprints of your latest doomsday device, Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack.”

 

Wheeljack, staring down, shook his head, shifting on his pedes.

 

“IdonthavethemIdidthembyspark.”

 

This time tilting his head to the right, Shockwave stopped and stared at the autobot, processing what he had been told.

 

“You are telling me you did not prepare blueprints or made any calculations, and just plainly assembled the _thing_ together. By spark.”

 

Wheeljack nodded.

 

“ _Fascinating_.”

 

Wheeljack _blinked_.

 

“You think so?”

 

Completely unaffected, Shockwave droned.

 

“I am positive that with scientific rigour we should be able to extract all your _crude_ , instinctual _qualit_ _ies_ into an ordered, productive, predictable and chartable fashion as befitting a Science Caste mech like you and I. Despite brilliant, you are _careless_ , and I must then presume you did not test your _only_ prototype, neither with a proper cohort, nor with a comprehensive _n_ before taking it into the field.”

 

Wheeljack humbly shook his head. He usually never followed any of the _scientific rules_ required to properly be considered a Scientist. He just liked assembling stuff and seeing them blow up.

 

Shockwave dipped his head in a nod, continuing.

 

“The situation is not irreversible: I will require that you reassemble a similar device, with its trigger properly locked, so I can reverse-engineer it into proper blueprints. Being the impressive artificer you are, I expect you can reproduce it _by spark_ _._ ”

 

Wheeljack meekly nodded. Shockwave, neutrally unaffected, turned to his drone.

 

“D-3. You are responsible of staying in the lab at all times and aiding Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack, taking full notes on every single step he does to produce the device, even apparent _mistakes._ Do you copy?”

 

“Yes, Mighty Shockwave.”

 

“I expect results.”

 

He then turned to Wheeljack, equally droning.

 

“I expect results.”

 

And turned to leave the room, without saying farewell, both the drone D-3 and Wheeljack staring at his aft as he went away.


	7. More than meets the eye

Agent Fowler finished shuffling through the _report_ , as Dr Eisenhower, left leg crossed over his right knee, both hands interlaced in his own lap, cleared his throat, speaking.

  


“May I speak freely, Sir?”

  


Slamming the papers on his desk, the Agent side-glanced the medic, a clear _no_ in face.

  


“ _Who_ exactly are these people?” he asked anyway.

  


“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

  


Eisenhower rolled his eyes under his glasses, as Fowler pinched his nosebridge.

  


“All you need to know is as soon as _Codename Soundwave_ is cleared, they will no longer be your problem, _D_ _octor_.”

  


“It is _my_ problem when unregistered _women_ are rescued _without uniform_ or clothes, surrounded by equally unclothed men in a battlefield against giant alien robots supposed to be the good guys, sporting bomb clusters made of said _alien_ metallic material sunk down their _pregnant_ pelvises, and I am ordered to _not_ report it.”

  


Agent Fowler shook his head, as Eisenhower nodded solemnly.

  


“The only thing worse than that would be knowing that in truth these people are the _Evil_ robots battling the good ones, somehow turned as human.”

  


Fowler, angry, _glowered:_ Eisenhower kept talking.

  


“I mean, I’d hate to find out I had ordered my staff to operate on a dangerous, evil, _pregnant_ _alien_ robot turned human.” he snorted.

  


“Doctor Eisenhower. Out.”

  


Eisenhower followed the digit and blinked.

  


“But I was only _joking_.”

  


Before the medic could protest, Agent Fowler pushed him towards the door of the room.

  


“ _Out!_ ”

  


And just like that, slammed the door on his face, leaving him on the outside.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Starscream, currently resting at the infirmary, bag of ice up on his nose, cotton stuffed up both nostrils, now wearing the dreaded hospital gown open on his back, made sure to remain quiet and appear as sick and harmless as possible.

  


He wanted to remain right where he was, no matter how demeaning his current situation could be.

  


At least here he was being taken care of: they gave him that liquid thing, what’s its name, _water_ , and something that he had to chew and swallow – _bread_ – to feed on, and he had privacy enough to discover how to do a few distasteful things that he knew humans had to do as well, like urinating, and was glad he had the excuse of being _dizzy_ on him not knowing exactly how to _do_ it, getting patiently instructed by the male nurse that brought him the appropriate urinal.

  


Briefly asking himself how his trinemates might be faring, he shrugged: Skywarp was a suck up to Megatron, and Thundercracker was intelligent enough to keep out of trouble, and they should be fine.

  


 

* * *

 

  


Megatron blinked slowly, not knowing how or when he managed to fall under recharge over the sofa, cursing the lack of a proper inner chronometer, rubbing on his eyes as they adjust to the dark.

  


Outlining the contours of his equally recharging decepticons, he squinted as one of them appeared to be sulking, staring against the locked door.

  


Trying to divine which of his decepticons was this one, Megatron grimaced: to him they all looked the same, except for the obvious hair, skin and eye colours (not visible under the dim light), as such, unable to discern in the semi-dark, he stood up, gave the sleeping Ravage a last pat and walked there, as the sitting man sighed.

  


“You _hurt_ _Screamer_. He was _bleeding_.”

  


Megatron nodded to himself, recognising the voice.

  


“Starscream should have known by now not to insult _my_ communication’s officer, Skywarp.”

  


Resigned, Skywarp shook his head, glaring at his boots.

  


“Did you _know_?”

  


Megatron raised an eyebrow.

  


“Know what?”

  


“That Soundwave is a _girl_.”

  


Skywarp drew the shape of Soundwave’s cybertronian tapedeck, square and large, in the air: nodding solemnly at the reminder, Megatron let silence speak for him, as Skywarp asked with a smirk.

  


“Since when??”

  


Megatron then shoved Skywarp aside in the lower bunk bed and sat besides him.

  


“Had anyone else asked me that, I’d have already punished him.”

  


Skywarp nodded, winking.

  


“Aww, but I can _ask_. I’m the _loyal_ seeker.”

  


Megatron sighed: he _knew._

  


“And I find it _cute_ that you worry, but don’t tell Screamer when he’s back.” he then whispered “TeeCee finds it cute too, but he’s _shy_.”

  


Skywarp _giggled_ , as Megatron shook his head: stupid _autobotish_ seeker.

  


“Enough, Skywarp. Don’t make me send you into _repairs_ too.”

  


There was no true fire and Skywarp knew it, leaning against his leader’s shoulders, the instant the doors of the room flung open and the lights were turned on, revealing two armed soldiers, giving way to one unarmed officer.

  


“Codename Megatron _:_ present yourself.”

  


Scowling, Megatron stood up, hands clasped behind his back, Ravage’s golden eyes glowing in the ill-lit room from his spot in the sofa.

  


“The Autobot Leader Optimus Prime is requesting your _presence.”_


	8. Soundwave: Superior

Doctor Pitanguy, Second Surgeon, walked the halls with his tablet and his patient files, stopping before the infirmary where he knew _Codename Soundwave_ was, and identified himself to the soldier guarding it.

 

He had to check up on her and on the _amazing sutures_ he did on her face!

 

Positive she would _love_ to know there would be no bad scarring due to his incredible intradermal suturing, Daniel got the door open and slowly stepped in, closing it behind himself and staring puzzled at the empty bed and the abandoned IV serum hanging from its support.

 

“What the hell...”

 

_Preposterous! Had the patient been released already and no one told him?_

 

_It had to be Dr. Eisenhower’s doing!_

 

Turning his tablet on, he started checking on the registry to know what happened, the instant a heavy, grey and black _pump_ was heavily sung into his head.

 

Instantly blacking out and falling noisily on his nose, all papers scattered on the ground, the medic never noticed the tablet literally be ejected out of his hands right into a pair of bare feet, instantly taken by a small white hand.

 

Raising the tablet to the level of both eyes, a smug smile creeping up the stitched up face, Soundwave nodded and immediately touched the screen, the device coming alight with wireless internet access.

 

_Soundwave: Superior._

 

* * *

 

 

Megatron literally growled at the soldiers who escorted him back to the presence of Optimus _fragging_ Prime, leaving the two faction leaders alone in the room.

 

“Megatron. I’m glad you decided to come.”

 

Snorting, Megatron spat.

 

“Irony does not befit you, _Prime_. As far as I know, I have had no choice. Now. What do you want?”

 

Optimus _sighed_ at Megatron, currently stubbornly folding arms at him from his spot on the ground.

 

“We have to _talk_.”

 

Fuming, the decepticon looked up at the towering Prime, scowling at the elevated platform.

 

“May we meet at face level like leaders of equal standing, then, or are you going to keep reminding me of what I have _lost_?”

 

Optimus patted the elevated platform twice, and Megatron couldn’t help comparing it to how he had called up Ravage, squinting.

 

“I do not authorise you to _beckon_ for me to come. I am not _yours_ for you to _play_ with me, _Prime_.”

 

 _Tired_ , Optimus showed the stairs of the elevated platform once more to his mortal nemesis.

 

“Can we just _talk_ for a change? It’s actually important.”

 

Momentarily taken aback at the weary tone, Megatron finally groaned and climbed up the stairs.

 

“Fine, Prime. I’m listening.”

 

Optimus nodded, taking between his index and his thumb a series of print out papers, that he brought to Megatron at touching distance.

 

“I’ll take it slowly. Soundwave’s human body is _female._ Do you confirm Soundwave’s spark is _purple_ as well?”

 

Megatron snatched the papers off the Prime’s digits.

 

“What do you take me for, a moron?” Megatron growled and squinted at the print letters.

 

Optimus decided to take that as a _yes_ , continuing.

 

“Were you aware Soundwave is _sparked_ as well?”

 

Megatron, never raising his eyes off the report, stalled.

 

Optimus, amused by the wide-eyed stare Megatron gave down the papers, cleared his vocalisers and spoke.

 

“Does the fact that they are _twins_ rings a bell?”

 

Megatron immediately looked up from the report as Optimus continued.

 

“Do you know where Rumble and Frenzy were during the last battle when the transformation took place?”

 

“You tell me, _Prime_.” he spat. “Where are they?”

 

Optimus sighed: coaxing useful info from Megatron was a pain in the aft, so the Prime simply pointed to the report in Megatron’s grasp, as the decepticon leader growled, opening them and flipping a few pages, finally raising the report up and pointing angrily at the dark grey imagery print in paper.

 

“What kind of joke is that?” he poked the papers until he ripped a few holes in them “These are not Rumble and Frenzy. These are _blotches_!! Where are _my_ spies??”

 

“This...” Optimus spoke slowly, deciding not to mock the possessive tone in _my_ _spies_ “...is not a joke. Apparently, Wheeljack’s _invention_ saw fit converting the two _docked_ hellions into human embryos, which for lack of a better definition, means that Soundwave’s _sparked_. Carrying. In human therms, _pregnant_. With _twins._ ”

 

Megatron, scowling, looked down the now damaged papers, staring very pensive at the blotches.

 

“So Soundwave will go through a full sparking cycle, _again_. Unexpected, inconvenient, but harmless: my communications officer underwent four cycles during the course of the war and all of them came out fine. Why should this even be a big deal?”

 

“Because _humans_ don’t deliver fully-formed humans, and the bitlets will come out requiring constant _attention_.”

 

Megatron snorted.

 

“As if Rumble and Frenzy didn’t require constant attention. Soundwave will be fine, not that it’s any of your _business._ ”

 

“It is my business when the responsible for throwing you in this situation is my Chief Engineering Officer, Megatron. Shockwave has already arrived and he and Wheeljack must be working on a reversal. Meanwhile, you’ll remain under our custody.”

  


* * *

 

Aware the unconsciousness of that white-coated human wouldn’t last too long, looking down at the now passed out medic, Soundwave immediately bent down ass up in the air, taking the medic’s white coat and then the green clothes off, fumbling with them until getting fully dressed, unable to push the pants above the somewhat _protruding_ abdomen.

 

Stretching the shirt to cover the protruding belly down, Soundwave finally stole the shoes, wriggling all toes inside them: they were just too big.

 

A good fit or not, they would have to do: walking around looking like a patient would be the sure-proof way to get captured back.

 

Very aware that there was a soldier standing guard on the outside, Soundwave stared down the tablet, flipping screens with the touch of a fingertip and visually scanning for anything that might give an advantage in leaving the room, nodding satisfied at the _emergency_ code icon on the upper right corner of the screen, begging to be pushed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You mean under _arrest_ as _p_ _risoners_.”

 

Optimus sighed, recalling the fact that they were indeed _locked up_.

 

“I would prefer to think _guests_.”

 

Before Megatron could retort, loud alarms klaxon-roared in the room, his hands automatically releasing the papers as they darted to cover his _ears_ and Optimus Prime, _worried_ , made sure to capture Megatron in his hand.

 

“Release me _Prime_!”!!! What kind of indignity is that?

 

Ignoring the decepticon leader, Optimus, about to truck-mode and steer a protesting Megatron out of there through the autobot’s huge garage entrance, stopped very still as he zoomed into the _figure_ that just came through the human’s door and slammed it closed from the inside.

 

* * *

 

 

Soundwave, currently rested back against the door, wearing the passed out medic’s stolen clothes, held a hand through the green shirt against the stitched abdomen, breathing shallowly: it burned from the inside and the sprint the communications officer took as soon as the medical emergency alarms did _sound_ didn’t help any.

 

Contemplating the fresh blood stains from the suture, Soundwave rested against the door and lowered down to the ground, closing both eyes and now protectively holding the tablet.

 

This flesh body was too weak and still _damaged_ of whatever they did to its insides. Even having left the room unnoticed, they would discover Soundwave left and would give chase.

 

It would be persecution just like Polyhex, all over again, until the day Soundwave managed to mind-control _Flatline_ so that the unscrupulous decepticon medic could build a new, exclusive _male_ carrier-host shell, to which the communication’s officer sparkchamber with the _purple_ , female spark pulsing within, was transferred, and from that day on, the communications officer joined the Gladiatorial Ring to begin a new life as Soundwave, the Gladiator.

 

Damned weak _human_ shell, revealing the dreaded, hidden, true _spark._ Soundwave would never get to the _symbionts_ like this.

 

Soundwave would never find Lord Megatron again.

 

_Soundwave: failed._

 

Head resting against both knees now, Soundwave didn’t even flinch as the familiar whirr of autobot hydraulics echoed in the room and stopped a few metres away.

 

* * *

 

 

Optimus Prime, lowering his hand down, deposed Megatron right before the crouching woman.

 

Scowling at the Prime, Megatron briefly adjusted his military greens and stepped close, clasping both hands behind his back.

 

“Soundwave. _Report_.”


	9. Knocked Out

Optimus Prime, having just witnessed Megatron interact  _normally_ with Soundwave and request a  _report_ , before the human soldiers indeed came by and took  _both_ of them out in cuffs, was currently deep in thought.

  


It was obvious Megatron  _knew_ , as much as it was obvious Megatron  _didn’t mind_ .

  


“A shanix for your thoughts, Optimus.”

  


Shaken out of his mind, Optimus shook his head as he stared back at Ratchet.

  


“I’ve just realised that _I_ have segregated the autobot females including my no-longer-then-to-be-bonded Elita-One on Cybertron for their own safety in the War, only to find out the most competent, dangerous decepticon spy  and hacker managed to keep hidden literally beneath our afts, and that _Soundwave_ must be having a laugh now.”

  


* * *

  


Starscream, literally lounging on his bed at the infirmary, having managed to gather special privileges like the remote control of the TV, his nostrils no longer stuffed up with cotton, squinted as the Second Surgeon Dr Daniel Pitanguy was nearly pushed into the bed neighbouring his.

  


Groaning and rubbing the back of his head as the nurses who let him in left, the surgeon startled as soon as a grating voice filled his ears.

  


“You, there. What happened?”

  


Not that Starscream  _cared_ , but he was bored and that  _human_ looked interesting.

  


“That _crazy_ woman ambushed me and _knocked_ me _out_ in the head! It’ll leave _marks_!!!”

  


He pointed to his scalp, as Starscream squinted.

  


“I can’t see anyone seeing any marks under all this shiny red _hair_.”

  


“I don’t care: I’ll _know_ they are there.” he sulked “In thinking I _saved_ her from those shards! I even expertly sutured her face. Ungrateful _brute._ ”

  


Attention picked, Starscream stalled.

  


“Wait. You’re saying _you_ operated on Soundwave?”

  


“And I deeply regret that I did! If I knew she would give me _indelible_ marks, I...”

  


Literally jumping out of his bed, Starscream captured the human by his shirt, envying the full-body pyjamas he wore instead of the standard patient  _vest_ .

  


“You, Doctor _Knocked-Out._ You’ll tell me everything you learned about Soundwave. Now!”

  


* * *

  


Megatron, currently sitting on a standard chair, briefly contemplated the frowning Soundwave, sitting besides him in another standard chair, both cuffed one to the other.

  


“Soundwave: immensely displeased with current metamorphosis.”

  


Megatron  _nodded_ : he couldn’t agree more.

  


“Soundwave: will murder Wheeljack in his recharge. With cruelty.”

  


Megatron groaned: he couldn’t agree less.

  


“Granted, but not before he and Shockwave can conjure a way of reverting the change and returning us to the _correct_ bodies. Until then, the autobot lives.”

  


Soundwave nodded, resigned. The silence stretched between them.

  


“Soundwave: accepted like _this_?”

  


Megatron raised an optic ridge.

  


“What do you mean? Of course I won’t _refuse_ you just because you are turned _human_.”

  


“Soundwave: accepted even in _female_ human shell?”

  


Megatron, taking a full second to process the question, inhaled deeply.

  


“You know very well that when I met you I had no idea that underneath your plating pulsed a _purple_ spark.”

  


Soundwave, _reminded_ , rested the free, non-cuffed right hand over the slightly protruding abdomen.

  


“Soundwave: never wanted to own a _purple_ spark. Competent spy: did everything possible to _hide_. Moved into male shell. Erased all databanks cybertronwide. Entered gladiatorial ring. Hid all sparking cycles successfully: all creations disguised under pretext of _symbiont_ bonds.”

  


And looked down at the ground.  Megatron, fleeting a glance at the closed door, then at the mirrored wall from where he was sure they were being watched, spoke.

  


“Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had been turned into organic versions of themselves.”

  


Soundwave nodded, already expecting something like that, as Megatron fleeted a glance to the cuffed up wrist whose hand was almost touching his own,  then  shook his head, recalling the  _blotches._

  


“And, according to the _Prime_ , Rumble and Frenzy are alive and well, _inside,_ in what passes as a carrying cycle for humans.”

  


Soundwave, attention picked, glared back at Mega tron, about to ask further, the moment the room’s door opened and a dark skinned man entered the room with a folder.

  


“ _Codename_ Megatron and Soundwave. At rest. I am Agent Fowler, responsible for this Allied Facility and currently aware of your _alien_ nature and  particular _predicament_.”

  


Megatron scowled, as Soundwave kept a neutral face.

  


“Know that I am less than thrilled by your presence here, and I’m positive the feeling is mutual. The only reason why you are being kept alive is the fact Optimus Prime himself vouched for your continued existence and promised to rectify everything.”

  


Fowler walked around the two chairs, looking down and squinting at Soundwave,  then turning to Megatron.

  


“My way of rectifying things would be executing you all right away, the day the Prime brought you in, while you are powerless and human, but Optimus believes in the sanctity of life, even _decepticon_ lives, so for the sake of _diplomacy_ , we will side with his wish, for now.”

  


Megatron snorted.

  


“As such, the already diminutive human staff of this facility will be moved out to make room for you and your subordinates to have a freer range of movement around the base, until your scientists can conjure up the reversal. Food, sanitation, clothing and shelter will continue being provided. Only essential medical staff and basic security will remain, and be made privy of the situation, and of who you really are.”

  


Megatron, defiant, kept glowering, as Soundwave remained eerily still, only the golden eyes following the agent as he stopped before the pregnant female.

  


“The main reason why we are leaving a medic _on site_ is you, _Codename_ Soundwave. You will have to undergo a series of examinations and scheduled appointments due to your _condition_. Do you have  any questions?”

  


Soundwave’ s expression darkened: having always had  _Hook_ for physician, one of the few privy to the  _purple_ spark pulsing underneath, the communications officer did not want to have to take on a  _human_ to do the perfectionist constructicon’s job.

  


“Lord Megatron: Soundwave has request.”

  


Megatron fleeted a glance to his right, meeting the golden eyes, giving a single nod, as Soundwave turned to Fowler.

  


“Soundwave: requests to be assisted by _decepticon medic_ Hook during carrying cycle.”

  


F owler darted his widened eyes to the speaking human, and  couldn’t help glancing down the ill-concealed belly showing underneath the blood-stained green shirt.

  
 

“I don’t think your _medic_ has any useful knowledge on humans to properly _help_. What he’s going to do? Use a _wrench_ on you when  it’s _due_?”

  


Megatron  _glowered_ at Fowler, then, as Soundwave insisted,  unaffected by provocation.

  


“Hook: competent and perfectionist. Perfectly capable of _learn_ _ing_ on how to assist Soundwave as _human_.”

  


Fowler, annoyed, turned on his heels.

  


“I will have _our_ medic instruct _yours_ as soon as possible.  For now, the soldiers will come by to take you two into solitary detention.”

  


A nd left the room, stomping and slamming the door.


	10. Shockwave's Burden

Prowl nearly lunged against Shockwave the instant the purple cyclops strolled inside the main living area of the base, as Jazz held him by an arm.

 

“Chill’out, m’a mech. I’ll do it.”

 

Shockwave walked past them and just plain grabbed an energon cube from the dispenser, sitting on a huge crate on a corner and fitting his straw with a flexible end into its lid, setting it up to drain the energon from inside, slowly.

 

Prowl, barely contained by Jazz, growled and stomped out of site, fuming, as the saboteur scooted close to the scientist, pulling a crate too and sitting over it, giving him a too wide smirk and crossing his legs one over the other, mocking a sultry pose.

 

After minutes of Shockwave silently ignoring him, understanding Shockwave was not going to offer a single reaction, Jazz addressed him at last.

 

“So. Shockers. What did’ya think of seeing ol’Megs in that human body? _Shocked_??”

 

Not caring to face the saboteur, Shockwave’s vocoded voice spoke.

 

“I am indifferent to how Lord Megatron looks like, Autobot Spy and Saboteur Jazz.”

 

Jazz rolled his optics.

 

“Oh, sure. _Ass_ long as it’s your Meggy _delivering_ , ya just suck it up. Ops. No mouthplates. Sorry. Bet _Sounders_ sucks it up better than ya.”

 

Slowly turning his single yellow optic towards the saboteur, Shockwave droned.

 

“My personal preference for the superior energy field of the _blue_ spark is irrelevant to the decepticon cause and needs not to be discussed, since I would never be able to completely fulfil Soundwave’s role. Due to owning a _blue_ spark myself, I cannot provide sparked creations via natural cybertronian processes mingling mine and My Lord’s spark to further the Decepticon cause like Soundwave and her _purple_ spark could.”

 

Jazz, shaken out of his teasing, gaped.

 

“Wait. Ya always knew???”

 

Shockwave started droning a not-answer.

 

“Normal carrier-hosts have to hunt for potential symbionts either among the cybertronian wildlife or just plain force-bond bipedal mechs and convert them into cassette frames like it happened to Ratbat.”

 

Jazz, recalling _Blaster_ , absently nodded.

 

“Every single symbiont just appeared one at a time, except obviously for the twins – I will get there – after a very suspiciously regular interval of a hundred centuries in between each of them, during which Soundwave went through a cyclical pattern of admittedly discreet behavioural change that comprised of periods of purged tanks, inability to retain energon, visits to Hook’s medbay, followed by increased fuel consumption, in a crescendo, until suddenly everything went back to default levels and in a few more centuries the cycle started again. After the first three cycles, I logically concluded the symbionts were being sparked by Soundwave every single time, and thus he had to be originally a _purple_ -sparked mech, namely the one whose spark can kindle with sparkmerge, unlike the regular _blue_ sparks, who cannot.”

 

Jazz, not willing to admit, had to agree Shockwave’s observations were very logical, and remained quiet, waiting for more.

 

“Soundwave then entered what I called the Fourth Cycle, or the cycle of the twins.”

 

“Da little wreckers.”

 

“Indeed. I have observed Soundwave enough and charted the officer’s energon consumption, extrapolating a formula just to conclude through calculation that this time instead of one, there would be probably _two_ sparks in the making, charting the data in an encrypted file and waiting for the predictable outcome.”

 

Shockwave kept droning, as Optimus Prime and Ratchet arrived in the room, brought in by a very _furious_ Prowl, who grumbled something on having to _flip a few tables otherwise he would kill him_ and left.

 

“As such, after the same usual amount of centuries took place, I finally confirmed my suspicions the day I saw the two _wreckers_ , as you pointed out, bringing havoc around the ship. I closed the file after the fourth event. I was now absolutely convinced that Soundwave had a kindling, _purple_ spark pulsing underneath.”

 

Ratchet also pulled a crate and sat close.

 

“I can’t believe you would just close the file!” Ratchet spat “You never completely leave your toys!!”

 

“Logically, Chief Medical Officer.”

 

Shockwave replied, uncaring to the fact he had by now amassed a small audience, as the Prime also pulled a crate to sit by, and kept droning.

 

“Soundwave remained a scientific obsession for me, and I often indulged observing from afar and taking scientific notes. Coincidentally or not, Soundwave stopped making symbionts after the fourth event. A whole million years passed without a single new tapeling. I concluded the double sparking event took a toll in the officer’s systems and to make sure such event would not take place again, for it would tax the productivity and endanger the Cause, I concluded I needed access to a verifiable number of _purple_ sparks, for me to have enough subjects to begin creating failsafe anti-sparking protocols.”

 

“I have the feeling I really don’t want to _know_.” whispered the Prime.

 

Ignoring him, Shockwave continued.

 

“As such, after each modification of the protocols and installing them in the captured _female_ autobots, I would make sure to sparkmerge with each of them.”

 

Ratchet nearly choked on his own fuels, as Optimus Prime, outraged, EM-field flaring wide, protested.

 

“...but this is rape!!”

 

“...and ya don’even _like_ females, mech.” Jazz glumly recalled.

 

Ignoring his audience’s beliefs, Shockwave merely nodded at their logical conclusions.

 

“A necessary sacrifice for Science.”

 

Ratchet then _snapped_.

 

“So that’s why you were obsessed in capturing female autobots and experimenting on their sparks!!!”

 

Shockwave tilted his head, squinting his optic.

 

“Chief Medical Officer. My work with the female’s _purple_ sparks benefited immensely my subsequent discoveries and the Decepticon Cause, to the point I have devised ten parallel projects just because of it, including the seeker squadron. Having followed my scientific drive to confirm my suspicions on Soundwave provided me enough _females_ under stasis, many carcasses and _purple_ sparks to last a lifetime.”

 

Optimus facepalmed, as Jazz shook his head and Ratchet _glowered_ , standing up from his crate and stomping towards the cyclops.

 

“You are saying you almost extinguished all the females of the planet, making us completely _dependent_ on the Matrix for reproduction, just because of your scientific curiosity???”

 

Shockwave, unaffected by the display, droned further.

 

“It was a scientifically relevant curiosity. Each time the anti-sparking protocol program failed and resulted in a newspark I made sure they would reach their full development by continuing to sacrifice my own _preferences_ by sparkmerging with the prospective carrier, admittedly a tasteless duty, then once ready, I stored each creation in stasis chambers for later use in my laboratory experiments.”

 

Optimus Prime was by now too shocked to _care_ showing his outrage, Jazz for once not knowing what to do as Ratchet stuttered.

 

“You. You, mister _I hate all the female autobots_. Your own _creations_.”

 

Shockwave nodded.

 

“One from each different creator, ensuring spark variability to the species, logically. I never repeated the subject once separation of newspark from their _purple-sparked_ carrier was done. It would not be logical.”

 

Optimus blinked stupidly as Ratchet snapped.

 

“Primus, you kept a _whole_ _harem_????”

 

Shockwave ignored further his audience and continued.

 

“I am satisfied that my sacrifice of sparkmerging with _purple_ female sparks bore fruit. All my creations resulted in valuable assets to the Cause. Acid Storm, Sunstorm, Ion Storm, Nova Storm, Sandstorm, Hotlink, Red Wing, Wheezing Arrow, Nacelle, Bitstream and Slipstream. I chose all names myself.”

 

Now Jazz snapped.

 

“Wait! Wasn’t Sunstorm the Screamer’s _clone??_ ”

 

Shockwave dipped his head in a single nod.

 

“Spy and saboteur Jazz. I am satisfied to see your _Intel_ indeed captured the _fake_ report I sent.” the cyclops eyed every single autobot surrounding him “Starscream’s flightform blueprints were the most logical choice for the production of a squadron of efficient flight frames, so I could pass off the seeker squadron as _clones._ ”

 

He then turned to face Ratchet.

 

“Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. To your knowledge, every single time a spark was created, proving the program failed, I would modify the program again, and try again, and again, until I finally reached a _p_ of less than 0,001 and could finally deem the protocols safe enough for Soundwave.”

 

Ratchet scowled at the cyclops, who merely continued.

 

“There was an inherent problem in that, however. I could not come to Soundwave and simply offer the program, so I had to use my brilliance once more and my own _many_ spying and hacking skills to invade the _autobot_ net and install it there, added to the fake historical fact that _Solus Prime_ had comprised the protocols for all her cybertronian physical representatives, namely the 13rd part of the population, for them to install and thus avoid unwanted sparking due to by rape during the Great War.”

 

Jazz, now completely furious that his spying skills had been totally _surpassed_ , left the room stomping, after Prowl.

 

Optimus Prime, mind spinning lightly at so much information, not missing the irony that Shockwave _raping_ female sparks created the anti-sparking protocols meant to avoid getting sparked by rape, exhaled, _very_ tired.

 

“From there on, the outcome was _logical_. I had put on a trigger in the net to warn me to when a decepticon caught the files, and it registered that Soundwave’s creations themselves infiltrated the Autobot’s Historical Registry, downloading through Laserbeak the anti-sparking protocols, and the fake historical facts, and finally I considered this part of the experiment done, gathering one more evidence to the fact that Soundwave owned a swirling _purple_ spark beating underneath.”

 

Beyond angry, Ratchet stomped closer to the scientist, pointing a finger to his single optic.

 

“I can’t believe Soundwave fooled everyone and just plain _walked around_ exhibiting that very _blue_ spark under the tapedeck glass!!!”

 

Shockwave, having by now finished draining his energon cube, set it aside, collected and ignoring the medic’s outburst.

 

“Interesting that you mentioned it, Chief Medical Officer.”

 

_Primus, he’s not done._

 

Taken aback, Ratchet sat back on his own crate.

 

“Understandably, since I lacked the hard evidence, I remained scientifically curious. After millennia observing and taking captured visual feed and applying calculations on the hue and reflection of outer images reflected by Soundwave’s chestplate tapedeck cyberglass with the appropriate lightning, I concluded there must have been colour filters applied. Scientifically proving my suspicions turned out a fascinating challenge.”

 

Optimus exchanged a _glare_ with Ratchet _,_ exasperated, as Shockwave kept droning.

 

“Since I could not come across a single sample of any _shattered_ _glass_ from the tapedeck, for Soundwave’s sparked creations made absolutely sure there would never be a single shard left to be found, all the glass always being recycled by Hook under secrecy, I had to develop a spectophotometric ray that could read the minerals and chemical compounds mingled into the glass’ composition, ensuring myself safely, from a distance, the readings I needed to reproduce the special cyberglass. I was enthralled to confirm it specifically filtered for a female spark’s colour and shading, making it to all effects visually resemble the male spark.”

 

Both autobots nodded, meekly.

 

“I then devised the version of the cyberglass meant to reverse the filtering effect _live_ , installing it in a surveillance drone: it took pictures and films from Soundwave and here in my Lab, I finally had the physical evidence of the purple spark beating behind the deck. Logically, I destroyed the glass, the drone and the formula afterwards, and all data provided, making sure to keep Soundwave under secrecy: I had no intention of losing such a fascinating _subject_.”

 

Shockwave then stood up, trying to leave the room, as Optimus stared shocked at Ratchet, who lunged his arm against the retreating mech and actually touched his arm, trying to get him not to leave, as Shockwave stopped and eerily looked down at their point of contact.

 

“I have no interest whatsoever in your _touch_ , Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. No matter my _preferences_ being wired into the _blue_ -sparked, non-kindling, so called _male_ representatives of the species, they do not extend a single inch to _you_. I expect you to have a very logical reason to have touched me, and to be still doing it.”

 

“Is that all of it??? You practically extinguished the females, managed to maintain a _harem_ and produce more sparked creations than Soundwave herself, hacked the autobot files, and when you obtained the final evidence of Soundwave’s hidden _spark_ , you just _stopped_?? Where’s the rest of the story??”

 

Shockwave glared at Ratchet’s hand until he released hid arm, then turned his single eye to both Optimus and the medic, droning.

 

“There is no rest of the story. My scientific curiosity was done. I decided not exposing Soundwave would be the most logical course of action.”

 

“But, but.. why?” asked the Prime.

 

“Autobot Leader and Commander Optimus Prime. The decepticon cause would have benefited nothing. Soundwave always did impeccable work even while being constantly sparked. I have deep respect for mecha that simply go and _do their work_ without petty sentiments and with efficiency.”

 

Dipping his head in a nod, Shockwave merely left the room, abandoning the empty energon cube on the ground besides the two flummoxed autobots.


	11. Detention

Soundwave was shown a  _cell_ containing a single bed with bedclothes and a pillow, one toilet, a sink, and a change of clean clothes.

 

“News spread fast. Everyone already knows you’re dangerous.” said the male warden “Get in and  _behave_. The nurse will come shortly to bring you your post-surgery meal.”

 

Soundwave, leering at the tone of voice, ignored him and stepped into the cell, still wearing the bloodstained clothes, taking note of the spartan, minimal features, and the lack of a privacy curtain.

 

“Soundwave: requires  _privacy_  to change.”

 

The warden smirked, locking Soundwave in.

 

“No such luck, girl. I’ve been ordered not to take my eyes away from you, and I plan to do exactly that. You may begin changing anytime.” he smirked.

 

Head dipping in a single nod then, watching the warden position himself with his back lounging against the far wall, folding arms and facing the cell, Soundwave unceremoniously placed the clothes on the bed over the pillow, deciding not to provoke him for now.

 

As far as the communications officer understood, at some point most of the security would be taken out of the base and they would be given freer range of movement: Soundwave was fairly sure there would be plenty of time and private opportunity to take these dirty things out in the future.

 

_Soundwave: patient. Can perfectly wait._

 

Taking on the bedcovers and laying down, Soundwave covered up and remained still, back against the wall, ready to plunge and attack should anyone decide to come too close, barely waiting until there would be permission to see the  _symbionts_  and Lord Megatron, again.

 

* * *

 

Megatron, having been literally thrown into solitary detention, rose from the ground and cursed these weak human bodies for having unprotected pain sensors all over its surface, getting to the hard, cold wall-mounted bed, taking note on the lack of covers, unlike those that they had been provided on the other, collective room.

 

“Your  _ration_  is already at the table.”

 

Megatron, taking a shameful amount of time, spared a glance at the covered up  _thing_ in the table, frowning as the warden spoke from the outside.

 

“I suggest you eat it before it gets  _worse_.”

 

As Megatron once more glowered at the covered plate, the Warden left, and the decepticon was never more glad for small mercies: inspecting it, poking it with the  _spoon_  provided, he made sure it wasn’t  _alive_ , then let the goo drip once at the table and on the ground, carefully observing if it wouldn’t be corrosive or anything.

 

Finally dipping a finger at the lukewarm goo, concluding it couldn’t dissolve or kill him, he recalled on how  _organics_  fuel, remembering the water and crackers they were told to  _eat_  earlier in the collective  _cell_ he and his decepticons had been placed at, and tried raising the spoon up, taking a tiny amount into his  _intake_.

 

Biting with more force than needed the spoon, Megatron made a mess of the goo, now dribbled down his chin and into his green clothes, cursing and immediately trying to scoop it back in the spoon, finally leading the thing back in mouth and grimacing as he swallowed, his only current happy thought being the hope that this dreadful condition would be reversed and he would get his revenge on the autobots very, very soon.

 

* * *

  

Filtering out the gory details of the surgery, Starscream, slightly more acquainted with organics than the regular cybertronian, nodded mildly disgusted at the description as Dr. Daniel finished his informal surgical report, finally taking his time to ask the seeker back.

 

“So,  _Starscream_ , or whatever-is-your-real-name. Are you the  _culprit_??”

 

Starscream, slightly outraged at the fact Soundwave apparently deceived every single cybertronian by effectively displaying a pulsing  _blue_ spark underneath the tapedeck glass, turned to the red haired medic and spat.

 

“Culprit of  _what?_ ”

 

Dr. Daniel outlined the shape of a pregnant belly before his own, as if it were  _obvious_ , as Starscream squinted.

 

“What purpose serves that gesture?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Daniel repeated the gesture, slowly.

 

“She’s  _pregnant_.” he snorted “Even though, much like a praying mantis in heat, I believe she actually beheaded the unlucky  _father_  for sustenance.”

 

Starscream, making the mental image of an  _insecticon queen_  consuming the prospective  _sire_  with her cheliceare once she was  _done_  mating, disgusted at the humans for having equally primitive means of reproduction, unlike the cybertronian’s superior  _sparkmerging_ , finally  _understood_ the analogy.

 

“Are you telling me there’s a tiny  _human… inside_?”

 

Starscream waved a hand at the general direction of Daniel’s lower abdomen, where the medic previously demonstrated the presence of a  _bump_.

 

“Correction.” Daniel smirked “There’s two of them.”

 

“Primus!” he slapped his own forehead,  _realisation_  kicking in “Rumble and Frenzy!!”

 

Daniel, smirking, nodded, clasping a hand on the Screamer’s left shoulder.

 

“Congratulations then, surviving  _daddy_. So  _c_ _ute._ They even have nicknames already.”

 

Daniel  _winked_. Starscream widened his eyes and instantly swatted Daniel’s hand out of his shoulder.

 

“No! You’re getting it wrong! I have nothing to do with that!!! I have never even came  _close_  to the tapeglitch!!!” he snapped “Imagine that! Me, the Prince of Vos,  _sparkmerging_ with the stiff and formal uncharismatic  _b_ _ore!_ ”

 

The medic, briefly pondering that this man had to be undergoing a schizophrenic attack, to the point of believing he was  _royalty_  of such  _fictional_  place, gave up on asking what  _sparkmerging_  would be, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to question the  _insane_ , just going along and humouring the madman.

 

“If you say so… well, no one in their right mind  _should_  nail a woman capable of beating them unconscious afterwards, but apparently  _someone_  did.”

 

Starscream snorted: now that he put the situation in perspective, it wasn’t so difficult anymore to  _know_  who actually  _did it._

 

* * *

 

At the cell where most of the decepticons were by now locked, a different kind of conversation was underway.

 

“I think they are executing us one by one.” dourly stated Skywarp.

 

The decepticons shared very worried glances in the semi-darkened room.

 

“I mean, they already took away the command trine.” Skywarp fidgeted with his hands “Who do you think will be next, TeeCee?”

 

Thundercracker shook his head.

 

“Megatron did say Commander Shockwave would be coming.” spoke a worried Scavenger “Does it mean he was taken out of commission too?”

 

Glum silence followed for three seconds. Finally, nudged by Blitzwing, Astrotrain spoke.

 

“Megatron has fallen: Starscream has fallen. Soundwave has fallen. Shockwave has fallen! I, Astrotrain, now shall lead the decepticons!!!”

 

Before he could speak further, he and Blitzwing were immediately mobbed by the constructicons, except for Hook, arms folded watching the spectacle and smirking, very, very glad for once he wouldn’t need to fix anyone once the fight was done, as Skywarp started rooting for the gestalt group and Thundercracker just facepalmed.

 

* * *

 

“Codename Soundwave?”

 

Blinking awake and sitting on the bunk bed, holding the bedcovers against both legs, Soundwave glared at the figure dressed in white holding a kind of covered tray, standing outside the cell: by the looks of it, it was probably the nurse with the so called  _meal_.

 

Watching the woman order the warden to open the cell up, Soundwave followed with eyes only the woman walk in as the warden locked the cell back, then depose the tray on the table, immediately getting close and unceremoniously inspecting the by now dried blood on…

 

“Why haven’t you changed your clothes? A pregnant woman shouldn’t stay filthy!”

 

Soundwave squinted, fleeting a glower to the warden and deciding to play the card.

 

“Soundwave: demanded privacy. Not granted.”

 

The nurse nodded, turning to the warden.

 

“You already locked me inside with her. Leave us for a couple of minutes, she needs to get these things out. It’s an  _order_.”

 

The warden, snorting and recalling the  _nurse_  has ranked higher than himself, saluted and did, the nurse huffing as he went away, then finally turning back to the communication’s officer and taking the clean clothes out of the bundle they were into, offering them.

 

Soundwave, staring between the clothes and the nurse, spoke.

 

“Requires privacy.”

 

The nurse shook her head.

 

“Not from me. Take these out. Here, let me help.”

 

Sighing, Soundwave stood up, looking slightly up to meet her gaze and getting ordered to raise both arms up, as the nurse started pulling the green shirt up, talking all along.

 

“ _Soundwave_. I am Second Lieutenant Nurse June Darby and I have been made privy to your condition of  _cybertronian_ turned human.”

 

Attention picked, Soundwave darted the golden eyes to her, feeling the chilled air in the room prickling on the skin as the bloodstained shirt was discarded on the ground.

 

“Agent Fowler designated me as part of the medical staff that will remain with you once the base is  _emptied_.” she nudged the sides of the ill-fitting pants, lowering them down the decepticon’s legs and guiding Soundwave’s feet out, one by one “Tomorrow, once you’re free to move out of the solitary confinement, I’ll guide you through your first  _bath_  and these sutures will be properly cleaned.”

 

Taking the clean clothes from the bundle, the nurse shook a kind of long, large shirt in the air, contemplated by the stark naked Soundwave standing up in the middle of the cell, belly protruding under the navel, enough to form a distinct bump.

 

Finding it interesting that this woman might be so trusting to the point of dismissing security, considering how Soundwave had previously attacked that medic, specially because she already knew what they truly  _were_ , the communication’s officer couldn’t help a smirk, before getting ordered to lift the arms again and having the long shirt slipped past them, down, covering up the whole body until the knees.

 

“A  _dress_  is more comfortable to your condition.” she gave a light pat over the bump, twice “The twins will thank you for not squeezing yourself in pants.”

 

Soundwave, looking down the bump, glared at the nurse’s own abdomen, looking for one as well and finding none.

 

“Query: Soundwave,  _sparked_.  _Pregnant_.” Soundwave deliberately placed a hand into the bump “Presumption: twins housed inside bump. Correct?”

 

The nurse took some time to process the odd speech pattern, finally nodding.

 

“I am aware you are  _new_  to this whole thing. For now it suffices to you that they are there. More info will be provided later. Now, I have brought the special post-surgery meal. Who wants to  _learn_  how to eat?”


	12. All your base are belong to us

Optimus Prime, under the desert’s sunrise, watched with a mix of dread and relief the base’s _human_ staff coming out and away from the desert they were at, the jeeps and trucks taking most of the vulnerable men and women away from the decepticons as only a selected few remained behind.

 

Agent Fowler, commander of the operation, was one of them, and was currently debriefing his staff, one by one.

 

“At rest, Lieutenant. You had been one of the few selected to stay behind in this operation.”

 

“ _Selected_. You mean _doomed_.”

 

Fowler glowered at the medic’s lack of formality, and Daniel sighed: no such luxury as having a choice: this was _military_ and they couldn’t afford the pleasure of getting away from an unpleasant job.

 

“First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy. Need I remind you about _who_ paid your studies?”

 

The surgeon sagged. _Uncle Sam_ did, and he had to work a few more years before his debt was done.

 

“No, Sir.”

 

“Very well. This will be the most important mission you ever received. Everything you ever thought about Life will change after this. Make sure to read it all. These people we are housing here at the Autobot’s request are _very_ dangerous and no detail should be overlooked.”

 

He handed the surgeon a folder and the tablet he took from _Soundwave_ back, as Daniel meekly received them, sighing and flipping the pages absently, skimming through the report detachedly, until his eyes zoomed in and both pupils went very wide.

 

“...evil, giant robots codenamed _Decepticons_ were turned _human_ via an obscure, exploding, alien _plot device_????”

 

Fowler nodded, pinching his nosebridge: he had gone through the same explanation with at least five other staff members, and all of them reacted exactly the same way.

 

“What kind of fluke is that??? Are you saying Dr Bowman and I operated on a _giant robot_ _magically_ turned into a _pregnant_ human female?”

 

“ _Technologically_ turned human. The autobot’s inventor and engineer made a bomb that caused this.”

 

Daniel threw the papers on the ground.

 

“Why isn’t Dr _Bowman_ here instead of me?? He’s as much a surgeon as I am, and a Lieutenant-Captain nonetheless! Higher rank, higher responsibility, right?”

 

He stared at his superior officer, hopeful. Fowler rolled his eyes.

 

“Doctor David Bowman has a _wife_ and two _kids_ waiting _home_.” Fowler tried summing up all the patience he didn’t have “Doctor Daniel, did you fully understand that the _decepticons_ are housed here in stand-by until the autobots can revert them back into their true selves, and that the instant they get their robotic selves back, we fully expect them to _strike_ back and...”

 

Daniel zoned out the end of the speech, and inwardly cursed his lack of luck: he _knew_ he should have married that _puerto_ \- _rican_ brunette who proposed him a fake marriage last year just for her to get a green card.

 

“...are we understood, officer?”

 

“...basically that means this is a suicidal mission and I’m going to die a gruesome, lonely and awful death.” he sagged.

 

Fowler glumly nodded, continuing to speak.

 

“By the way, _Doctor._ You’re getting a _student_. _Codename_ Hook, their _medic_ , will be taken to your presence shortly after you first visit the _future_ _mommy_. I expect you will not mind.”

 

Fowler, watching quite amused the _glare_ he received back, dipped his head in a nod, saluted and left the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Soundwave, having received basic _instructions_ on how to function as a _pregnant_ human, sutures cleaned, skin brushed and hair washed and tied in a ponytail by Nurse Darby herself when she taught the decepticon how to take a proper shower, currently sat on a regular single bed in a semi-private suite meant for officers, wearing once again a loose dress ,bare feet dangling from the side, amused.

 

_Soundwave: receiving special care._

 

Taking notes on how the nurse emphasised the need to not bring any kind of unneeded trauma to the _bump_ , Soundwave expertly understood that the estate of _pregnancy_ was important enough for the humans to grant the _carrier_ some degree of _immunity_ , and couldn’t help smiling at the privilege of a room with private access to the human version of washracks.

 

_Soundwave: constantly leaking. Must stay close to hygienic facilities._

 

Barely waiting the moment they would call up for the so expected meeting with the _symbionts_ and Lord Megatron, Soundwave glared at the slowly opening door, a certain red head peeking from the open slit.

 

Inwardly smirking at the memory of the _doctor_ , Soundwave, head dipped in a single nod, stood silently as Doctor Daniel stepped in, tablet in hands and a grumbling, reluctant, yet resigned armed soldier in tow.

 

The fact he was ordered to assume the medical care of this _lunatic_ didn’t mean he had to sacrifice his own security, afterall.

 

Clearing his throat and straightening his back, Daniel, glaring at the eerily still, expressionless and silent woman, spoke.

 

“ _Codename Soundwave_. I am First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy, and I have been designated your primary and antenatal care physician. For the duration of your predicament you will be treated like any woman in your condition should, having the same exams and medications prescribed, and procedures taken to ensure the safety of the unborn foetuses.”

 

Soundwave stood up, rigidly, as Daniel took from his coat three flasks full of pills, showing first the copper-coloured ones, then the yellow, and finally the white ones.

 

“You will take one daily pill of ferrous sulphate to prevent anaemia, folic acid to ensure the correct brain development and a multivitamin supplement for greater measure. Any questions?”

 

Soundwave had loads of questions: all of them vanished the instant the pair of golden eyes darted towards Daniel’s tablet, making Soundwave step ahead twice, extending a hand, palms up, irises wide.

 

“Soundwave: requests datapad.”

 

Daniel, stepping back twice at the approaching woman, nearly threw himself at the soldier standing guard behind him.

 

“What? No way.”

 

Soundwave, stopping, remained with the hand in supine position.

 

“Soundwave: _p_ _olitely_ requests datapad.”

 

“This is federal property.”

 

The medic gave a not-answer and stared at the still hand, swallowing dry at the woman’s proximity and inching closer to the equally worried soldier supposed to protect him, but currently stepping back as well: when earlier Daniel asked him to come in, he had _just_ been debriefed and was shocked to learn evil robots were turned into humans and didn’t like to know he was supposed to help protect the base against them.

 

Unflinching however, ignoring their inner struggle, Soundwave insisted.

 

“Soundwave: apologises for hitting doctor and stealing clothes earlier.”

 

Momentarily taken aback, Daniel blinked, as Soundwave took the lack of reaction as a good sign and stepped closer.

 

“Soundwave: _new_ to the whole experience. Datapad: required for gathering _information_.”

 

Daniel blinked, right eye twitching as Soundwave gave one more step ahead and the medic finally snapped.

 

“Fine!! You’re forgiven!! It’s yours!! Just stop looking at me like this!!”

 

He quickly jolted the tablet into the waiting hand and immediately scurried out of the room pulling the unresisting soldier along, as Soundwave, eyes darting to the tablet and a slow smirk forming in face, instantly started exploring the device.

 

* * *

 

 

Hook stood awake the whole night, cursing his lack of luck.

 

Apparently, not knowing anything about humans didn’t prevent his gestalt of coming to him for _help._

 

“Who told you to go there and fight? Seeing Starscream _bleed_ wasn’t enough of a clue that these _shells_ are weak? Dimwitted light-bulb. Hold still.”

 

Scavenger whined as Hook inspected his swollen, purple left eye, prying it open to meet the bright green iris staring right at him.

 

“Seeing me? Yes? Fine, optic not damaged then. Apparently this is cosmetic. Now get back into bed.”

 

Scavenger meekly nodded at the fantastic bedside manners, briefly contemplating Mixmaster idly massaging his own also purplish and swollen jaw, and finally hugged Hook for a full second before getting shoved away with a grunt.

 

Having seen each of his gestaltmates, and having dutifully ignored both Astrotrain and Blitzwing, each sulking on a different corner with their own wounds, he sat back at the sofa, right besides Scrapper, who was staring at nowhere and would occasionally lick his split lip.

 

“I can understand _Bonecrusher_ barging in. But you?? I would imagine that being our _leader_ you’d have a bit more sense than the others.”

 

Scrapper gave him a dirty look, about to exert his authority as _leader_ of the gestalt, the moment the room’s door came open and no one less than Agent Fowler stepped in.

 

Briefly contemplating the mess of the _decepticons_ sporting bruises and raising his eyebrow, deciding he didn’t want to _know_ , he merely stood his ground, hands clasped on his back, scanning the room for the prowling panther and the perched up vultures over the rail of one of the top bunk beds.

 

Before he could speak, however, Scavenger spoke.

 

“Which of us will be next?”

 

Blinking, Fowler _glared_.

 

“What?”

 

“Aren’t you taking us away one by one for execution?”

 

Fowler _blinked_ and the decepticons _stared_. Finally, he shook his head.

 

“You’re here under the _custody_ of _Optimus_ _Prime._ No one is getting _executed_.”

 

As they visibly relaxed, Agent Fowler continued.

 

“I am here to inform you that this base has been cleared of non-essential human staff and is from now on open for your use. I advise that you maintain _good behaviour_. Now everyone stand up in line before me. I’m taking you to your _leader_ Megatron _._ ”

 

Ravage, lazily napping over a top bunk bed, blinked his eyes open at the mention of his _master_ , jumping down and walking before the Agent, just plain sitting on his hindquarters, glaring up, the two vultures landing right behind, Buzzsaw ruffling his feathers as both hopp ed after their older _sibling._

 

Raising his eyebrow and doing his best to not snap at the _pets_ , Fowler cleared his throat.

 

“...right. One by one, in line, after _them_ if you may. Now!”


	13. Take me to your leader

Megatron, brought  already un-cuffed to Agent Fowler’s presence out of the solitary reclusion cell, squinted as the man spoke.

  


“Your _men_ had  already been taken to the showers earlier, and should be waiting for you in the mess hall, as soon as you make yourself presentable.”

  


Looking down  his human self briefly, Megatron leered.

  


“I’m _trapped_ in flesh. I don’t  think I can get _presentable_.”

  


Fowler, now smirking, just signalled for the  soldier to steer Megatron to a side room, speaking.

  


“On the contrary. There is always room for improvement.”

  


With a mocking flourish, Fowler presented Megatron the row of five ceiling-mounted collective showers.

  


Looking up the pipes in the ceiling, Megatron followed with his eyes Agent Fowler walk towards one of the showers and  quickly  turn a wall-mounted knob counter-clockwise,  cold water flowing out of it.

  


“A brief lesson in organics for you, Megatron.” he threw a bar of soap in the decepticon’s hands “As cybertronians you might only need to clean if you actually get down dirty, but trust me. If you don’t wash, preferably daily, as a human, oils from skin will go _rancid_ and you’ll start to _stink_.”

  


Megatron gave his own skin a  _disgusted_ look, as Fowler continued.

  


“You may begin anytime. Unfortunately your troops used up all the hot water. My soldier will remain with you during the ordeal, in case you need _help._ ”

  


The soldier, one of the few selected to stay behind and aware of _who_ these men really were, widened his eyes and held his rifle close at being volunteered,  green eyes going wide, as the agent pointed to a bundle over the bench in the far side of the room.

  


“After washing, dry yourself and dress in clean clothes.”

  


As Megatron _glowered_ , Fowler smirked and finally left the room: the tyrant, looking down the bar of soap for a second, then at the apparently worried soldier, instantly growled the man away.

  


“Stay your distance, _human_. I don’t need a  fleshling to _sparksit_ me.”

  


And just plain started taking the uniform away, throwing it on the ground and stomping stark naked to the open shower, diving under the freezing water, unable to avoid shuddering, hating the sensitivity of this _weak_ body, but determined to make tnings work: he wouldn’t be defeated by his own _human_ shell in something as basic as a wash!

  


* * *

  


Starscream, already with a new change of clothes,  very glad to be out of the patient’s gown open in the back, and currently sitting in the mess hall  on the company of his untouched  plate of  _goo_ , watched with amusement the line of decepticons coming from the showers, Skywarp leaving the line  in a jolt and nearly  _teleporting_ into his lap, hugging him.

  


“Screamer! So it’s true! They aren’t executing us!”

  


“Don’t call me _that_ , you imbecile!” he pushed Skywarp away “Of course they aren’t! I’m here! Now. Where’s our idiotic leader? Did he actually hit each of them? I hope they had killed him in return!”

  


“What?” he turned to briefly contemplate the constructicons selecting one table of eight seats and filling it “Oh, no, we thought the squishies were taking us away for execution one by one and that the high command was already gone, so Astrotrain tried to make a grab for leadership.”

  


“I… see.” he briefly contemplated the ex-triplechangers sulking on their own into a separate table.

  


“You can see how well that went.” spoke Thundercracker, approaching and politely guiding Skywarp to a seat of his own, then sitting in another himself “Now, Starscream. Any news on Megatron or Soundwave? What if _they_ had been executed and you’re now our leader?”

  


Starscream snorted.

  


“No such luck for me. Trust me, Megatron would rather _ris_ _e_ from the dead  instead of allowing _me_ to  take my rightful place as decepticon _leader_! ”

  


* * *

 

  


Daniel Pitanguy, First-Lieutenant and Second Surgeon, was currently willing his heartbeat to slow down through wish alone,  hiding in a far corridor near the storage area.

  


“I’m not fit for this. I’ll defect, leave the country, _disappear_ with my old ID and start an underground _plastic_ surgery business.  People will flock to me to get a boob job and a bubble butt.”

  


The soldier he dragged along, a tall, brawny,  tanned, golden- brown-eyed man,  glumly nodded.

  


“When you leave, count me in. In thinking I joined because I wanted to be in the action and get officially allowed to shoot and break things.”

  


He clutched against the rifle, as the medic  briefly contemplated  him and passed a hand through his shiny red hair, extend ing another in a handshake.

  


“By the way. I believe we haven’t been introduced. First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy, MD, Second-Surgeon.”

  


The soldier, still clutching against the rifle, stared at the  open  hand for two full seconds  before comprehension kicked in.

  


“Oh. Sorry.” he held the rifle with his left hand and captured the medic’s hand on his own “Leonard Brock, dumb cannon-fodder and foot soldier.” 

  


Leonard showed the  _soldier_ insignia on his left shoulder, as Daniel nodded, and they finally  let go of their point of contact, silence stretching, until  the other man spoke.

  


“What if these _decepticons_ have alien germs or something? What if we are part of a sinister experiment  like in the movies?”

  


Raising his eyebrow and actually snorting, Daniel patted once the taller man’s shoulder.

  


“Don’t be _that_ paranoid. Freaky accident, _sure_ , but actually a _ploy_ to experiment on us?  To what purpose? Don’t you think those giant robots have better things to do? I would have if I were _one_.”

  


As Leonard actually imagined for a second the red-haired man turning into a giant,  red-plated robot, he immediately shook the notion away, watching the doctor take the hand out of his shoulder and walk away, the white coat slowly flowing with each step on his back.


	14. Someone set us up the bomb

Jolted out of the wonderful world of wireless internet, Soundwave barely had time to stare up.

 

Instantly mobbed by an overly affectionate panther, Soundwave clutched Ravage in a bear-hug, the big cat immediately beginning to growl a _purr_ and uncomfortably not-fitting on his master’s lap, as he rubbed his face against Soundwave’s chin and cheeks, golden eyes closed, in bliss.

 

Soundwave, wanting to just pick Ravage, possessively fold him into a tiny mass-displaced ball and throw him _inside_ , never letting go, forever close to the spark, looked up to both avians, perched atop the end of the bed, head dipping in a nod at them.

 

“ _Cohort_ : complete. Rumble and Frenzy: trapped _inside_.”

 

Soundwave placed a hand in the bump, Ravage following the motion with his eyes, coming close and immediately rubbing the sides of his face against it, slowly, as Laserbeak ruffled her wings, tilting her head right and Buzzsaw started cleaning his own feathers, pretending to ignore the display and the fact he was waiting for his own turn with _carrier._

 

* * *

 

Having watched the encounter from the half-open door, Nurse June Darby pursed her lips as she silently left the room.

 

She had been more than sufficiently debriefed on the true nature of these _decepticons_ : they were ruthless, evil, wanted to steal all of Earth’s energy for themselves, extinguishing the humans as species and enslaving the autobots in the process, and should have been executed on spot as soon as they were first brought in.

 

Being a mother herself, her only son Jack currently deployed far and away in Iraq (a high-ranked Officer nonetheless, but on _Iraq_ the same), she could understand the _pain._ Even knowing _Soundwave_ was Megatron’s most loyal officer, cold and emotionless enough to the point of employing _one’s_ own _children_ in the effort of War, June Darby couldn’t help feeling some degree of empathy, even if the telepath didn’t deserve any as far as everyone could tell.

 

* * *

 

 

Megatron, arriving at the mess hall, squinted at each of his decepticons making the most pitiful efforts they could just to get used to _eat_.

 

Not going to confess his own shortcomings, he made sure to get satisfaction whenever he could, going in a beeline right to Starscream’s trine.

 

Startling as Lord Megatron made sure to clasp with force on his left shoulder, Starscream, the only seeker actually managing to _eat_ without making a mess of himself until then, nearly squawked as he dropped the whole plate of goo on the ground, barely missing his own leg and boots.

 

Skywarp busted in laughter, goo literally shooting out of his nostrils and nearly _drowning_ him, as Thundercracker couldn’t help sniggering at the now screeching _second_ _in_ _command_ , who stood up and immediately started furiously poking Megatron’s chest.

 

“Curse you, _Mighty_ Megatron! Why won’t you just _offline_??”

 

“You would love that, wouldn’t you, little glitch?” he swatted the seeker’s hand away “How have you fared in the human medbay?” He suddenly tweaked Starscream’s nose, earning himself a yelp. “I thought so.”

 

Walking past the seeker trine, with Skywarp still cracking his ass out laughing, Megatron walked to the Constructicons, squinting at the _six_ dark-haired, green eyed men.

 

How was he supposed to differentiate them? They all look practically the same!

 

Shrugging, he just plain grabbed the closest of them by the arm.

 

“Hook?”

 

The green eyed man yelped and stared in confusion at his leader, as Scrapper shook his head, licking once his split lip and pointing to the only one of them not sporting bruises.

 

“This one you got is Longhaul. Hook is there.”

 

Megatron, groaning, let the constructicon go and approached his faithful medic, just plain pulling him out of the table through a shoulder, leading him away until he sat the constructicon medic on the farthest possible table, instantly seating as well and matter-of-factly stating:

 

“You will assist Soundwave in _the current_ sparking cycle.”

 

Actually choking and starting to cough, Hook widened his eyes, hoarsening his way through the next phrase.

 

“Did by any means Solus Prime’s anti-sparking protocols fail?”

 

Megatron shook his head: all the decepticons were by now trying to overhear and he lowered even more his voice.

 

“Rumble and Frenzy were trapped _inside_ when the bomb was set. I guess whatever it is the way it works, it saw fit converting the twins into the human version of unreleased _sparklets._ ”

 

Hook nodded, in dismay.

 

“...I’m afraid I don’t have the necessary skill to assist _humans_ , Lord Megatron. If I did, I’d have already healed my own gestalt.”

 

Megatron nodded, very aware.

 

“Soundwave specifically requested your medical assistance during the cycle. That human, Agent Fowler, promised to send _their_ medic to instruct you.”

 

Unsure if he felt offended at hearing he would be _instructed_ by a human, or proud that Soundwave trusted no one but _himself_ for the current _situation_ , Hook ran a hand through his currently sweating forehead.

 

He would be doomed if he failed assisting. He had no choice but to comply.

 

Finally meeting Megatron’s grey eyes, he nodded.

 

“It will be an honour, as usual, Lord Megatron.”

 

Megatron nodded, standing up and instantly grabbing Hook by his shirt, bringing him up to the level of his own face, now speaking aloud for everyone to listen.

 

“Even though everyone _knows_ by now, an outcome I currently _loathe_ , I expect you _all_ to treat _Soundwave_ as you always did. Soundwave’s a fierce gladiator, and a cunning spy. Soundwave’s not a _girl_.”

 

Hook, having been made privy to the _purple_ spark beating beneath Soundwave’s plating long ago, still in the Gladiator Ring, and having been properly threatened into silence by the Spy Master _himself_ , gave Megatron a single nod, as the other decepticons, even Starscream and his gestalt, wisely scattered.


	15. The Claw decides who stays and who goes

Smoke filled the room as Wheeljack attempted shooing the offending fog out of his face and battlemask, pitifully looking down his until then blossoming prototype.

 

Making sure his servos were not turned into fleshling versions of himself, he sighed, then sagged: he had no idea on what went wrong. He assembled the _thing_ the same way he did before.

 

Fine, he didn’t have blueprints, nor a semblance of plans, but it had never been a true impediment before.

 

Sitting on his wall-mounted bench and glaring ahead, at the dark smudge now tinting the wall and around the bench in a small blast-radius, he couldn’t help smirking: at least his Lab was getting a bit more _cosy._

 

“I have heard an explosion. Do you have the blueprints for the prototype already?”

 

Startling at the voice, Wheeljack looked behind, finding the immovable faceplates of Shockwave walking by.

 

“Ah, well, not really, it exploded but...”

 

Immediately the inventor went mute as Shockwave completely ignored his existence and went straight to the screen-faced drone, repeating the question.

 

D-3 started depicting written text in its screen face, the Cyclops reading it and finally dipping his head in a nod, dismissing the drone to the other side of the lab, and only then turning to the autobot.

 

“My drone had been watching your progress and stored today’s failure for later comparison. Do not worry about making blueprints, Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack. D-3 will do it for you as soon as a prototype is ready and prove it is working, by experimentation.”

 

At the word _experimentation_ , Wheeljack stalled.

 

“What experimentation?”

 

Shockwave, turning his face slowly towards the autobot, spoke.

 

“Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack. You obviously did not expect to assemble the prototype and to not test it, once again.”

 

Wheeljack glowed his side panels twice, stuttering.

 

“I…”

 

Shockwave then intruded into the inventor’s working bench with his fine taloned, lavender, biolight-glowing right hand as Wheeljack followed the motion, the cyclops picking on a large metal shard and bringing it close to his single optic, droning.

 

“We do not have a large enough _n_ to be able to statistically calculate the predictability of the outcome, so hard evidence of at least _one_ cybertronian turned human under controlled laboratory settings will have to suffice.”

 

He returned the shard to the bench, as realisation kicked in and Wheeljack widened his optics.

 

“...but...but...who’s going to _volunteer_ to _that_???”

 

Shockwave then turned on his left and finally intruded into Wheeljack’s personal space, EM-field held tight and composed, looming, looking down at him, almost optic to face.

 

“Do autobots routinely _volunteer_ to be experimented upon?”

 

Wheeljack shook his head.

 

“It’s not like I have had offers, I mean, It’s always better to work with help, but so far no one ever volunteered, and...”

 

Shockwave briefly touched his hexagonal head and yellow optic to the autobot’s blastmask.

 

“Must I presume then you are _volunteering_ , Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack?”

 

Wheeljack widened his optics and held his in-venting, as Shockwave’s pointed talons traced his blastmask, thumb running underneath the jawline and resting on his chin, slowly turning the engineer’s face right and left, finally lifting it slightly and making him face the single yellow optic.

 

“I have _side_ projects that could benefit from a willing, cooperative, scientifically capable test subject.”

 

The single, unflinching yellow optic coldly focused on his own blue orbs, as blinking back into life, the clawed fingertips burning on his plating, Wheeljack hurriedly removed Shockwave’s hand from his face.

 

“No!! Primus, no. I... we won’t be able to revert anything if I get.. sidetracked.”

 

Wheeljack looked aside from the unnerving optic, as Shockwave droned one _logically_ and tilted his head right, stepping back.

 

“I am for now operating under _autobot_ rules, and thus I will not insist for you to be my test subject, then. Perhaps another time.”

 

Wheeljack, surprised, blinked.

 

“That is… nice of you??”

 

Shockwave, turning to glare at the smudge tinting the wall, ignored the question and stood there rigidly, droning.

 

“Thus, under _autobot_ rules, I require that you find a _consenting_ subject to test your prototype when the time is due. If you don’t, I will be left no option but to _break_ said rules and bridge one of my many female autobots under stasis for the procedure.”

 

Wheeljack slowly nodded, still scared to see the cyclops apparently gave up on _dissecting him_ , as Shockwave turned on heels and stared at his drone.

 

“D-3 will assist me in routine maintenance now. I will order his return shortly.”

 

“Huh… fine?”

 

Making a gesture for the drone to follow him, dipping his head to the autobot, Shockwave unceremoniously walked out.

 

* * *

 

 

Doctor Pitanguy nervously tapped his fingertips at his _ne_ _w_ tablet, sighing.

 

“You do know why you have been brought here, right?”

 

Hook, fleeting a glance at the green eyed soldier standing guard by the door, _stared_ at the red-haired _medic_ before him, counting to ten before speaking.

 

“I am here to be _instructed_ on how to properly assist Soundwave during the human version of a sparking cycle, or as you call it, a _pregnancy_.”

 

Daniel nodded: having been minimally debriefed on the cybertronian reproductive process via sparkmerging by that white plated autobot, Ratchet, he had an idea on how to address the subject via comparative anatomy.

 

“Tell me what you know about _human pregnancy_ , so we can go on from there.”

 

Hook shook his head, sarcasm flowing in waves.

 

“I know nothing. Instruct me, _doc_. I’m dying to _learn_.”

 

Daniel sighed: why had he thought it would be easy?

 

“Look. I have received the orders to make Soundwave’s medic, namely you, capable of _helping_ the patient to go through this _pregnancy._ Don’t make it _worse_ than it has to be, and please stare at the screen: if you know nothing, then I will begin with the basics.”

 

Projecting the image of the human female reproductive system, side by side with the male reproductive system, both with the external and internal anatomy exposed, Daniel started speaking, a smile behind his lips as Hook visibly winced at each phrased explanation, deeply regretting the day he was cold-constructed millions of years ago.


	16. The Mechanics of Fluids

Hook tried to futilely reconcile everything he thought he knew about life with a single undeniable fact.

 

 _Everything about organics involves fluids_.

 

“Can I help?”

 

Looking up from the datapad he had been given with many pdf books selected for him to study on, Hook met the worried blacked-out eye of Scavenger.

 

“Will you stop looming, idiot? I’m trying to _think_.”

 

Scavenger stepped back, pouting and side glancing at the tablet, as Hook shook his head and muttered something about _disgusting fluids_ , going back to read.

 

He was given a deadline until the next morning and a basic guideline to follow, and feared he might not be able to go through it in time: despite expected, due to the fluid-driven nature of organics, Hook had no actual idea it truly involved so _much_ of the disgusting things to actually take place.

 

It’s not like Cybertronian reproduction was that complicated: spark-to-spark conjunction led to the budding of a newspark between the blue, non-kindling, energy-dense donor spark and the purple, kindling, energy-sucking receptor spark, with the requirement of frequent sparkmerging to keep the newspark energised and growing, until the sparklet was ready to be separated from the purple-sparked carrier and delivered into a cold-constructed or a forged-in-a-hotspot body.

 

As such, being suddenly thrown into the universe of organic reproduction and learning that the _female_ human body was actually the _forge_ from where the new human would come from, that humans didn’t really have _sparks_ and instead all their existence was based on coded info from their genetic code that brought forth their shells and _brains_ , and that a single exchange of fluids was the initial requirement for the process of reproduction, no further contact between prospective sire and carrier being needed, Hook was truly shocked to see that any species could even manage to have survived with so much dependence on fluids and chance-meeting of _male_ and _female_ reproductive cells.

 

Basically, as far as he understood, there would be no required human-version of a _sparkmerge_ to keep the two _hellions_ alive, which in a way was a relief in itself: he absolutely did _not_ want to go through explaining to anyone how humans _merge_.

 

It was bad enough already they were drowned on _amniotic_ fluid, getting fed by the exchange of nutrients via blood in something called a _placenta_ , and that Soundwave was technically the equivalent of a walking, leaking human _hostpot_.

 

Which made disturbing sense: Hotspots were guarded with fierceness, and it did seem to bear great resemblance with how Soundwave was getting treated, with what he would call nearly _obsessive_ care.

 

* * *

 

 

Megatron hesitated outside the door of the room Soundwave had been assigned to.

 

Frag you, Soundwave, for being so spot on and seeing right through him: _of course_ Megatron was disturbed by the fact that everybody knew _Soundwave_ owned a purple spark. When it was only a secret held by a selected few, and Soundwave was the silent, cunning spy and communications officer, displaying the visual _deception_ of a blue spark pulsing beneath the glass, Megatron could _cope._

 

Before he could turn on his heels and get away however, the door creaked open and the golden eyes usually hidden behind a decepticon-red visor focused on him.

 

“Lord Megatron: planning to loiter or actually intends to come in?”

 

Steeling himself into a rigid stance, Megatron nodded non-committally and followed in as Soundwave sat back on the bed and caught the tablet in hands, zoning out of the world and restarting to read, silently, as Laserbeak ruffled her feathers in glee and Buzzsaw detachedly cawed and mechanically cleaned his feathers, each from atop a side of the couch.

 

“How did you know I was there? Tell me you have maintained mind-reading powers.”

 

“Soundwave: unable to read minds in current shell. Megatron: _pacing_.”

 

Megatron mentally cursed then: he was trying to pace silently, damn it!

 

As if reading his thoughts however, Soundwave actually stared up and smirked.

 

“Sound of pacing: beneath my detection range. Ravage: has better ears.”

 

Megatron then instantly squinted at Ravage, who squinted back at him from his spot at the foot of the bed, lounging lazily, stretching and yawning, somehow managing to occupy even more space than before, sprawling over Soundwave’s lap in a possessive purr.

 

_Mine._

 

Megatron, getting the non-verbal message across, scowled, then tried to reconcile his previous trail of thought with the sight currently filling his eyes.

 

“Do you realise you’re the only one of us with a private room?”

 

Soundwave didn’t bother to nod, droning.

 

“Carrying: _prized_ by humans. Species: relies solely on human-to-human means of reproduction, having no Matrix or Hotspots available. General info on the Process: potentially dangerous to the carrying human, entailing viviparous birthing method of whole infant shell that might or not require surgery to come to completion depending on conditions available and urgency of situation. Soundwave: aware of the risks if situation stretches for too long. Unwilling to go through them, despite the apparently privileged status of being a carrying human.”

 

Megatron nodded, fleeting a glance at the fingertips touching the screen much like datacable feelers, flipping tabs quickly, eyes never raising off it, focused on searching.

 

“Did by any means their medic already instruct you on how to deal with the current carrying cycle?”

 

Soundwave pointed to the three vitamin bottles and finally to the datapad.

 

“Human medic: scared of me. Soundwave: ordered to take _pills._ Medic: surrendered datapad when requested _politely_. Datapad: more useful source of information than _medic_. Soundwave: satisfied with outcome so far.”

 

Megatron couldn’t help smirking at the thought of Soundwave instilling fear even in this shell, and futilely tried to visually scan the surface of the bed in search of any unoccupied spot so he could sit besides his _conjunx_ , finally clearing his throat at Ravage.

 

The panther lifted his head, glaring defiantly at him, refusing to let go of _carrier_ , and thus they would remain, until the instant the _tablet_ in Soundwave’s hands suddenly blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Agent Fowler, having been left as chief of the Operation, as unwilling to be there as his subordinates were, nearly dozed in his office/temporary quarters the moment Dr. Daniel busted in.

 

“Don’t tell them I’m here!”

 

The medic had migrated from the door to literally hide behind the agent’s chair, as the dark-skinned man slowly turned to face his subordinate.

 

“First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy. Care to explain what’s going on??”

 

Before Daniel could speak, however, dipping his head in a nod, Megatron strolled in, unable to hold a smirk as he folded arms and observed Soundwave step right behind, turned off tablet in hands, going in a beeline right to the scared doctor and extending it.

 

“Datapad: offline. Soundwave: requests means of recharging device.”

 

As Daniel backed off from the woman as if she were _contagious_ , Soundwave remained in position and Fowler actually squinted at the tablet.

 

“What is _that_?”

 

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Soundwave.

 

“Datapad: federal property surrendered by medic for _personal_ use.”

 

Fowler turned to his subordinate then.

 

“...did you give _federal property_ , namely a _tablet_ with _internet_ access, to _Soundwave_?”

 

“... uh ...”

 

“...are you aware Soundwave is the most dangerous and skilled _hacker_ of Cybertron?”

 

Megatron smirked: Soundwave remained rigidly holding the tablet, waiting for a solution: Daniel scratched his head.

 

“You know, _Sir_ , when you put it like this, it does sound like a _bad_ thing.”

 

Fowler, _glowering_ , decided he _didn’t want to know_ and just opened a drawer, taking one charger from inside and unceremoniously placing it in Soundwave’s open palm, not caring to explain how it worked, finally taking his subordinate by the scruff of his neck with one hand, and pointed to the door with the other.

 

“ _Doctor Daniel_. Just… out. Before I decide returning you home inside a bodybag.”

 

Daniel widened his eyes and instantly saluted then (quickly eyeing the visibly proudMegatron _and_ Soundwave fiddling with the charger and trying to figure out how it worked), scurrying to the doorway and disappearing as Agent Fowler shook his head and facepalmed.


	17. The Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I spent a whole year preparing the final papers to me to finally graduate as Specialist in Epidemiology, so my mind had truly been way out of my works.

Megatron didn’t recharge.

  


He has kept up all night so far trying to get  _Soundwave_ to recharge.

  


“Soundwave. Turn this thing off. It’s late.”

  


Soundwave, browsing and reading, never took both eyes from the screen.

  


“Soundwave: has refuelled. Will continue working. Has always overworked before and had never been object of Megatron’s _worry_ with something as menial as lack of recharge.”

  


Megatron rolled his eyes.

  


“These shells have to _sleep_ , specially _you_ in that dreaded, _organic_ condition. You were a _cybertronian_ , not a f...”

  


Soundwave squinted at the unspoken word hanging between them, and stared darkly at the greyed out man.

  


“Lord Megatron: has agreed to _watch_ Soundwave _work_.”

  


Megatron then squinted.

  


“Are you turning _rebellious_ on me?”

  


Soundwave instantly stopped and nudged Ravage aside, standing up and taking Megatron by one arm.

  


“Soundwave: _never_ rebellious. Always compliant. Soundwave’s _work: gathering of information;_ learning; studying. Requires calm, peace and silence. Has antenatal care appointment in four hours with Hook and human medic. Has no time to indulge into _recharge_. Intends to have millions of questions ready. Will not accept disturbance.”

  


And walked to the door, opening it up.

  


Outraged, unbelieving, Megatron snarled.

  


“Are you sending me _out_???”

  


Soundwave briefly looked at the open door then and merely repeated.

  


“Soundwave: will not accept _any_ disturbance. Not even yours.”

  


Megatron snapped.

  


“Do you forget I’m supposed to be there at the appointment with you??”

  


Soundwave nodded respectfully once.

  


“Lord Megatron: _sire_. Welcome to show up.”

  


After a full minute staring down the pissed off  _pregnant_ form, Megatron ripped his arm out from  _Soundwave’s_ hand, growled and finally left, stomping out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Starscream, suddenly pulled out of the lower bunk bed he was occupying into the ground, blinked stupidly until his eyes focused.

  


“Megatron?? How did you get in??”

  


Megatron, growling, didn’t bother to tell the door was unlocked, and merely ripped the bedsheets out, laying back in Starscream’s place, turning his back on him and facing the wall, as the SIC folded arms.

  


“I thought you had left to pass an idyllic night with your _beloved_ tapeglitch and all the little nuisances.”

  


Megatron did  _not_ dignify that with an answer, as Skywarp, awakening in the other lower bunk bed, sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  


“What’s Lord Megatron doing in your bed, Screamer?”

  


“Don’t call me that, idiot!” he crossed the distance between the bunk beds and pushed Skywarp aside, sitting besides him. “Give room.” he snorted “Looks like our _glorious_ leader decided bunking up with the _seeker trine_ tonight.”

  


Megatron, pretending to be already asleep, did his best not to move, as Skywarp scratched his  chin , looked up the upper bunk bed above, where Thundercracker was, and shook his head.

  


“I don’t want to be between you two when you actually start fighting. These shells _bleed_. I’m bunking up with TeeCee.”

  


Before Starscream could protest, Thundercracker, overhearing everything, just extended his hand from upwards, as Skywarp nearly beamed and took it, climbing up in one step and snuggling against his favourite trinemate.

  


Starscream, left to sulk and stare at the certainly pretending self of Megatron, scowled and turned on his back too, forcing himself back into sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

  


Doctor Daniel, having spent the whole night inside the medical appointment office, made himself a makeshift bed at the examination table and ill-slept all along, absolutely resolute in not being alone in this wretched base anymore.

  


“Did I really have to remain here all night standing guard with you?”

  


“ _Sitting_ guard. Like you had anything better to do, _Leo_. Don’t forget you’re into my favourite couch.”

  


Leonard snorted, cushioning himself against the couch.

  


“You sure have good taste, _doc._ ”

  


Daniel rolled his eyes:  _obviously_ .

  


Jumping at the sudden knock in the door and scrambling to his feet, the medic widened his eyes and pointed to the spyhole in the door, hissing for the soldier to see who it was.

  


Clutching against his rifle and standing up, stretching and going to the door’s spyhole, closing one eye and looking out with the other, he was immediately hit by the opening door right in his nose.

  


Yelping  and holding his hand against his left eye, Leonard stepped back as Daniel squinted at  _who_ arrived in, folding arms.

  


“ _Second_ -Lieutenant _Nurse_ June Darby.” Daniel met the stern, dutiful face “What are you doing _here_?”

  


Walking in, she briefly inspected the room, shaking her head at the messy examination table.

  


“I’m here to make sure the room is in order: apparently it isn’t.” she raised the sheets with disgust between two fingertips “Were you _sleeping_ at the _gynaecological_ examination table?? With its supports propped up??”

  


Not caring to listen to the reply Daniel didn’t want to give anyway (because he sure had propped his legs up the struts - who wants to get varicose veins?), she handed Soldier Leonard a flask of 70% alcohol solution, and pointed to the table.

  


“Clean it up.” she turned to the medic, uncaring he was her immediate superior officer “It’s almost dawning and you don’t expect a _pregnant_ woman to lay on his _filth_ , do you?”

  


Daniel groaned: nurses and their obsession with cleaning!

  


“I am not _filthy_. I _washed_ before coming and was fully dressed in the proper attire. I’m not going to _contaminate_ her.”

  


“Sure thing, _nurse_.” Leonard was spreading the alcohol solution in the examination table with a disposable napkin “It’s their _alien_ germs we should be afraid of.”

  


* * *

  


Hook, unable to sleep despite exhaustion, gave up trying and was one hour early for the antenatal care appointment, charged up tablet in hands, obsessively reading as he waited, sitting on the ground against the corridor wall: in his sleep-deprived, medically tortured mind, he concluded he would never learn enough and know enough anyway so what would be the point of reading all those stupid human books and that he was damned if he showed weakness before that sorry excuse of a medic, ‘cause if he just had some more _time_ he might be able to  master this pregnancy thing and altogether send that human medic away and he himself take over the appointment and…

  


“Hook: early.”

  


Nearly jumping out of his  skin , Hook held the tablet against his chest and  looked up, watching Soundwave  observe his reaction withou t a flinch,  tablet in hands, Ravage on tow.

  


Nodding at the duo and almost involuntarily checking up the  communication’s officer shell, from the calves up into the  _bump_ and over the loose dress, meeting the unblinking eyes.

 

Recalling that  _Lord_ Megatron had left with them earlier and was supposed to be here as that human  _Daniel_ said he should be (but wasn’t),  before he could stand up,  Hook was once more flung out of his thoughts as June Darby’s voice echoed in  the hall, calling them both in.


End file.
